Mazopolitik
by irk
Summary: Five years after Try ends, Firia wakes up to a wounded Xelloss in her home and a lot of trouble all around.
1. Chapter 1

Nestled in the snug down of warm covers and soft pillows, Firia felt the pitter-patter of COLD FEET ON HER BACK.  
  
"Uuuuunggrrrhrrrrrmph..." Valteria had climbed in _again_? Why wouldn't he learn to sleep in his own bed!? Firia squirmed away from the chilly boy's grasp and stumbled out of bed, mumbling disoriented curses as she groped for her slippers. Scuffling across the hard frigid floorboards, Firia clutched a quilt and dragged it out of the grasp of the other linens. After tossing the blanket onto her side of the bed, Firia gently but firmly rolled Valteria up in the covers that she had formerly slept in. With her adopted son safe, secure, and conveniently stuck in his own warm coccoon, Firia curled up under the fresh blanket and smiled. It was an old trick that happily never failed.  
  
Firia lay awake, waiting for the blanket to absorb the heat of her body and warm up. The interruption was no bother since she could sleep as far into the morning as she wanted. Valteria was staying with her friends in the mountains. Firia wouldn't have to cook his breakfast early like she normally did.  
  
Two in the morning was no time for logical reasoning, but Firia wouldn't have to worry about that until she woke up again.  
  
* * *  
  
Late into the morning but still almost punctual for the day, Firia woke up again. Her son was away (she remembered with a flush) and there was a man in her bed. He had purple hair, was still asleep, and as impossible as it should be, his body was as cold as it was when he'd crawled in next to her in the middle of the night.  
  
Xelloss shivered and slid closer to where Firia sat. Still asleep - or maybe just delirious - he rubbed his cheek against her hip as his knees curled up against her legs. Worry crouched around his face as words sighed past his lips but died before they could rise to be heard. Firia stroked his hair without a second thought, the motherly reaction trained into her. As she felt Xelloss shiver harder, Firia swept her blanket on top of the covers around him.  
  
Firia gently brushed her fingers over Xelloss' cheek and started. He was as cold as ice!  
  
Scooping Xelloss into her arms, Firia rushed to the bath. She managed to shift him around and free up a hand, using that to turn the taps. Firia rubbed her cheek against Xelloss' chilled lips as the bathtub slowly filled. As soon as the water reached an acceptable level, Firia unrolled the blankets and eased Xelloss into the tub.  
  
Firia stood there, sometimes glancing at the water level as it climbed, but mostly watching Xelloss. He still slept, head rested back against the lip of the tub, legs bent slightly and turned to the right for lack of space. After shutting off the tap, Firia realized that Xelloss was still wearing full garb down to his boots. She tugged the boots off of his feet, grimacing at the shabby repair that they were in. The state of his attire matched that of his footwear, fraying at the ends with the not so occasional rip for variety.  
  
Firia found herself even more worried. It had only been a few months since Xelloss had last stayed with her. What had he gotten into this time?  
  
For a few minutes, concern for Xelloss was all that Firia could focus on. Then she mentally berated herself. Xelloss purposefully drew Trouble towards him and danced with her. This wasn't the first time that Trouble's sister Disaster had cut in. "Well whatever it was, he's here now, soaking up my hot water." Firia grinned wryly and dipped a finger into the bathtub. She jerked it back in bafflement. "What-"  
  
The bathwater was chilly enough to rouse the dead, or at least the drunk. Firia glanced at Xelloss. The mazoku was shivering even harder than before as frost began to glaze the water around his shoulders. Firia grabbed Xelloss around the waist and lifted him out; as she did, she realized that Xelloss' body was colder than the bath.  
  
Firia almost lost her grip from shock and from the slippery waterlogged rags of clothing that Xelloss was wearing. He was light, at least, but Firia was shorter than Xelloss and this made things even more awkward. She caught herself and settled Xelloss' back against her chest. Easing the two of them down, Firia sat on the floor with Xelloss sprawled in her lap, colder than a corpse.  
  
What had nudged against her chest as she sank to the floor? Firia tugged at Xelloss' shredded cape, trying to shift the ungainly fabric away. Finally Xelloss' back was exposed, and Firia paled at the sight of what she'd felt. A knife was sunk hilt-deep into the valley between Xelloss' shoulderblades. It was made of solid ice. Her fingers approached the handle, but before she could touch it Xelloss shifted in her lap.  
  
"I'll never...I'll n-n-never fall into y-your ranks..." He clutched at Firia's skirt, huddling against her, pushing her down in a desperate struggle for warmth. Firia couldn't fight him at this angle and fell underneath him. She tried to control herself as Xelloss rubbed against her and moaned. It wasn't two months ago, and they weren't in bed with each other, but Firia almost felt like that time was upon them. "Xelloss! Xelloss!" Firia tried to slap him awake, but her arm was wedged against her chest.  
  
"N-never...n-n-n-" Xelloss curled against Firia, quiet and still, save his shivering. Firia tried to wrap his cloak around him, but it was pulled tight under his legs. She shivered a little herself. Xelloss was too cold! At least he'd calmed down now, and stopped pawing at her. Firia squirmed out from under Xelloss and pulled herself to her feet.  
  
"He's so cold that I'm freezing! And the tub's freezing! And all because of-" Firia's eyes wandered to Xelloss' back.  
  
"Never...won't let you..." Xelloss twitched.  
  
That knife. That knife had to go.  
  
"...won't let you k-kill her..."  
  
Firia wrapped a towel around her hand, readied herself, and then grabbed the frozen knife. The cold bit into her almost immediately. Firia pulled, but the blade wasn't coming out easily. It seemed to fight her, as if it wanted to sink deeper and deeper into Xelloss until the mazoku couldn't even shiver for warmth. But Firia was a very strong dragon, and with a last heave the knife finally parted from Xelloss' flesh.  
  
Firia dropped the cursed thing into the tub and sank to her knees. She unwrapped her hand and sucked on it, wincing. Her entire arm hurt. It pulsed with the dull ache of frozen pain.  
  
Firia jumped, startled at the percussion of her own teeth chattering. She checked Xelloss to see how bad the wound the knife left was. But the knife had left no mark, only a vague frigid touch on his skin. Xelloss himself lay still, more quiet than before. He had stopped shivering.  
  
While rubbing her aching arm and wincing at intermittent muscle spasms, Firia contemplated the situation. Xelloss would have to get out of those clothes and into bed. She'd check him over then and see what, if anything, she could do for him. As a shrine priestess and as a mother Firia had learned quite a bit about healing, but treating Mazoku was far beyond her range. She'd have to see about disposing of that knife. And breakfast needed to be cooked.  
  
Well, she'd hoped life without Valteria wouldn't bore her. And here her wish was. Granted. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, so we _are_ here to play a game." Xelloss stared at the chessboard somberly. "I took your previous actions to mean that you had forfeited."  
  
"I _never_ forfeit."  
  
"It seems that you've already made your move." Xelloss raised an eyebrow and leaned back. The butt of the knife knocked against the back of his chair, paralysing him for five long seconds. He kept his mental composure through the attack and smiled at his opponent as soon as he was able. "Hasty of you. Desperation whelps runt plans."  
  
"I took four years to place my piece. It's your turn now."  
  
Xelloss shook his head. "Not now. I always prefer to think about my next move for at least ten years. It keeps things clean."  
  
"You have ten minutes. After that, the game will progress a bit faster than it used to. I hope you won't be rusty."  
  
"Ah, but you forget." Xelloss waggled a finger in the air. "I enjoy thinking on my feet." As he outwardly smiled, Xelloss made an inward grimace. He could barely feel his legs.  
  
* * *  
  
Firia stripped Xelloss down and tossed the wet clothing aside. The garments were too torn to salvage, in her opinion. She rubbed Xelloss with a towel and pondered whether she should just throw his clothes in the trash. Firia snorted at the thought. 'Raw garbage indeed!'  
  
Getting Xelloss into bed was as much of a chore as getting him out of the bath. It had been easier with the blanket wrapped around him. Now his legs got in the way. Firia grunted while trying not to stub Xelloss on anything sharp. Where did he get these long legs? Firia would muse on which relative he'd gotten them from, but with Mazoku there was no telling. For all she knew Xelloss' family had long tails.  
  
Firia laid Xelloss on the bed and dragged the blanket there over him, tucking it around his chilly form. She fetched the other covers from the bathroom floor and draped them on top of the blanket. But this wasn't going to help anything, Firia realized, because for the blankets to warm Xelloss up he would have to warm them first.  
  
'He can't fight the cold like this. He has no body heat.' Firia looked at the small iron stove in the middle of the room, her gaze running along the stovepipe growing from it through the ceiling. 'I'll have to make him some.'  
  
Firewood was a bit difficult to find. Firia kept quite a few hefty pieces handy for her large cooking stove in the kitchen. The stove in the bedroom was only useful in the winter months, though, so she didn't bother to chop it small enough during the rest of the year. Firia walked to the woodpile outside and sized it up. Handling an ax would be a pain right now...  
  
"Who needs to chop it, though?" Firia hefted a sizeable length and broke it over her knee. "I can make do with what I have."  
  
Applying her draconic strength to the firewood made for quick work, and after a few refreshing crashes Firia had enough fuel to keep the room warm for days. She cast a furtive glance through the bedroom window. Did she wake Xelloss up with all that noise? Actually, the mazoku looked like he might be snoring. Firia raised an eyebrow. "What kind of lullabyes did Zelas sing to her children?"  
  
Bearing an armload of fuel for the fire, Firia walked back through the house and into the bedroom. Starting the fire was a snap after loading wood into the stove - no dragon is ever in need of a light. The room steadily warmed up to a temperature that was almost uncomfortable to Firia, but she ignored it. After checking to see that the fire would remain steady for a long time, Firia went to the bed and sat beside Xelloss' sleeping form.  
  
She gently brushed the back of her hand over his face. "You always look too innocent when you're asleep. It's unfair to me." Firia trailed her fingers upward, over the closed lips, against the cold cheek, through the hair falling across the forehead. She swept a few stray strands away from the center of Xelloss' brow before she closed her eyes and settled her palms there.  
  
It was this part that Firia always had to concentrate on. An exchange of energy could take many forms - be it an argument, a spell or a kiss. A few months into their relationship, Xelloss had to talk with Firia about how she sent energy. As a priestess she had been trained very early on to channel the energy of Ceipheed or the Fire Dragon King in whatever activities she was engaged in. Her thoughts were always to be centered on preservation, healing, and purity. Enacting the rituals and roles of a priestess for so many years had made her accustomed to using the energies in everything she did. Firia had never realized how subconscious some of her magic was until Xelloss brought it to her attention himself.  
  
_"Now, it's all fine and good for a Priestess of the Fire Dragon King to live in the same spirit that she worships, but this is dangerous. Even ignoring that this energy is the worst poison to me, it's still dangerous for you to channel without thinking. Magic should never be automatic. Habit can turn into error, and thought must never give way to memory." He laughed, shaking his finger at her. "Besides, now I'll have to train it out of you."_  
  
Firia frowned, concentrating not on purifying her energy of darkness, but on purifying it of the light that was Xelloss' poison. His words from that lesson echoed in her mind. _"It's really simple, but everyone likes to complicate their methods. All you have to do is approach a problem on its own terms instead of dragging in your past work. Those experiences taught you how to feel magic, but only your will can cast it. Also, please don't kill me."_ The last part stung her with its possible irony. In his weakened state, Firia could very well kill Xelloss by forgetting to ground from a nonlethal source.  
  
Energy was pouring through her hands now, clean of dark or light. She sank down in her mind, spiraling down a stairway out of this cold physical reality and into the astral world. Physically Xelloss was in no further danger. Here, however, there could be much work to do.  
  
Exiting her own astral grounds was as simple as walking. She always began a journey in her own spiritual home, a temple-kitchen filled with the smell of baking cookies and motherly devotion. She stepped away and out, one step becoming two or ten in this realm. Outside there was darkness, a star filled with skies, each star a possiblity that could be at her fingertips in the time it took to reach out her hand. But she didn't want anything that was out there. She wanted to go down.  
  
Xelloss' dwelling was always under her home in the astral realm, and he would never say why. All Firia knew was that any time she looked for him here, he was always right down there, usually looking up at her. She dropped to the level of Xelloss' home here, hesitant to enter. Every time before when she had tried this, he had invited her in.  
  
Firia put her hand to the smooth, auburn granite that encased Xelloss' dwelling. She could feel him, sleeping inside with the door unlocked. She parted the curtain of stone with her hands and stepped inside, the rock flowing in behind her to leave a seamless wall.  
  
Firia stood in the darkness, almost drawing a breath before she realized that she couldn't do that on this plane. A hand, soft as a cloak of silk, cupped the swell of her neck.  
  
"Straight into my hand. You've walked right into a trap, you know." Firia felt teeth stroke her chin before she was pulled into the floor. 


	3. Chapter 3

A storm of scattered sensations rampaged around Firia while she drowned in an ocean of red. Flashes of broken visions flitted past and lost touches caressed her cheek as faint words echoed in her ear. The barrage constantly assaulted Firia as she felt herself being pulled further downward. Here was a girl lying, bleeding, begging for her life....there the pierce of an arrow that was shot five hundred years ago...the solemn tones of an oath of loyalty shifted into mad, happy laughter.  
  
Firia whipped her head left and right, arms fending off monsters...children...lovers...  
  
"Xelloss, your mind..._your memories_?!"  
  
Firia grasped above her head for a rope knotted into a hangman's noose...but it gave way under her fingers, made of nothing but thought.   
  
"Placed our piece, have we?" The question passed through Firia's head and faded into a spray of shattered ice. She had never heard its speaker's voice. Around her the sea turned to earth, burying her for one paralysing moment. This gale of memory was only getting fiercer. Firia's sight blurred in a wave of dizziness, her arms going slack.  
  
"My life with Firia has no bearing on Zelas' decisions!" The familiar voice of Xelloss woke Firia from her stupor. Suddenly, the mazoku himself was face to face with her.  
  
"What are you doing in here? It's all I can do to move this frozen soul...did Dynast find you?" It was Xelloss, here with her on the astral plane! "Don't let Lafitte...no, I can't-"  
  
Xelloss vanished. The red crashed around Firia, throwing her into darkness.  
  
* * *  
  
"Placed our piece, have we?" Surveying the board, Dynast raised an eyebrow. "Well, _that's_ optimistic."  
  
Xelloss smiled humbly, his arms huddled in front of his chest. "Really? I didn't think so."  
  
Dynast sat down across the board from Xelloss, silver eyes wandering over the priest's body. A smile slowly spread his lips as a tiny shiver overtook Xelloss. "If I recall correctly, the last time you tried this gambit it took me five hundred years to finally block you without heavy casualties."  
  
"As always, your memory is not at a loss." Xelloss held his grin, eyes opening shyly. "It's not optimistic at all. You'll come out much farther ahead than I in the end." He winked. "With patience."  
  
"What if I don't feel like waiting?" Dynast's gaze flicked up at Xelloss' face, freezing his opponent's smile. "It's such a long battle for such a small turnout. It would be better..." -Xelloss seized up- "...if you acted a bit more considerately towards me."  
  
Xelloss hunched over, arms wrapped around his stomach. The cold! It was crawling into him! "It's...against the rules...to take back my turn."  
  
Nodding his head accomodatingly, Dynast moved his hand forward, sliding a piece across the board with his fingertip. "There. Now it's your turn. Go ahead, Xelloss."  
  
Xelloss winced. His hands were shaking uncontrollably as the knife in his back drained him of heat. It took so much strength to still his fingers, but finally he nudged his soldier down the same path it had started on.  
  
Dynast snarled with anger and balled his hand into a fist. As the fingers curled, Xelloss cried out in pain. The fist tightened, Xelloss convulsing as the cold burned through him with a merciless intensity. He started to scream as Dynast's nails bit into his palm. Finally Dynast relented and let his hand go slack. He shook it out as he stepped around the table to Xelloss' side. The priest was shivering, his gaze very still as the shock slowly melted away. Dynast nudged the priest's face upward, wanting his full attention. "That wasn't very considerate, my servant."  
  
"N-n-n...not..."  
  
"Don't interrupt me." Xelloss felt his stomach turn cold as his vision swam. Dynast shook him, forcing him to focus. "Do not persist to waste my time with these pointless attempts at a struggle. I don't care about what your former mistress thought manners were. I don't want to see what ignorant depths you'll plunge to just to prove your loyalty to her. Don't show me. When I want to laugh I'll let you tell me all about your fidelity. I brought you here to serve me, and you will lose this game if I want you to."  
  
"You'll kill me before I let you win my service." Xelloss' voice was low and even.  
  
Dynast chuckled, fingers ruffling Xelloss' hair behind the neck. He sank to Xelloss' eye level, his lips right next to the priest's ear. "I won't torture you like this anymore, Xelloss. I'll just leave you to play the game as that knife bleeds out your will to disobey." He rubbed his fingers in circles on the back of Xelloss' neck. "I'll be more patient than you planned for. I wonder...what will be the first to go? Your sanity? Your vengeance? Or maybe it'll be your penchant for secrets." As Dynast's breath whispered against Xelloss' ear, the mazoku stopped shivering. "_That_ would be entertaining. And after all of your soul freezes, I'll just thaw the parts I want. Doesn't that sound like fun? Unless, of course, you want to keep your soul, your personality, yourself." Dynast moved to face Xelloss. "But that would require forfeiting."  
  
"Are you going to make your move, Dynast? I want to go soon." Xelloss smiled cheerfully. "The Slow Bastard Gambit is so much fun to play."  
  
Dynast smirked. "Take your time. That knife may just freeze your tongue right off. I didn't want a servant with your smartass mouth anyways."  
  
* * *  
  
The darkness around Firia bled away in wisps of smoke until she could see clearly again. She was sprawled on a hardwood floor, where she must have landed after that maddening drop. The surroundings were much different than any she'd seen in Xelloss' astral quarters before. He always preferred something classic with a warped sense of geometry 'to keep you on your toes'. But this was quaint and homey, with nothing opulent at all...  
  
Firia rose to her feet, stunned. This was her kitchen! Except it wasn't her kitchen...the old stove was against the wall, and she'd replaced that thing two years ago after the bottom cracked from faulty lining. And the high chair was still in the corner, even though Firia had sold it to an expecting merchant's wife when Valteria had outgrown it.  
  
"It's just like I remember it." Firia whirled around to face the speaker behind her.  
  
"Hello again." The man - or was it a boy? - smiled in a way that chilled Firia for some reason. He looked young - old? - and carried himself more arrogantly than royalty. As he stepped forward, Firia became aware of how alien he looked, as if some subtlety about his person just screamed out to her astral senses. His astral body even looked strange. His wavy white hair was stained with dull brown shadows and tied into a short ponytail, save for a rogue bundle of bangs on the side of his face that ran straight, long and black. His nose had a hump in it, and his smile was just...crooked.  
  
"Hmm. So _this_ is what fear tastes like close up." The stranger closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and slowly inhaled the air, savoring it. Firia edged to the side, never losing sight of this man/boy. Anything that could actually breathe on this plane should not be trusted.  
  
"Oh no, honey. Not so fast." Arms wrapped around Firia from behind, grabbing her wrists. "I'm not about to let you slip away. Pretty you may be, but you still came in uninvited," the stranger whispered into her ear. "Besides, it's rude to traipse around here like you own the place, without even a nod to poor old Lafitte."  
  
Firia managed to kill the reflex to struggle, trying to remain calm. Whatever he was, this...Lafitte...hadn't hurt her yet. He was strange, and threatening, but she couldn't just run away from him if he could appear anywhere. Maybe he could see reason.  
  
"We're going to have fun, Firia." Lafitte nuzzled her hair, chuckling. "How much fear can you make? I want to smell more of it."  
  
Maybe Firia could get away from him long enough to hit him with something very hard. 


	4. Chapter 4

"Look, this is very nice, but I don't really have any time to lose." Firia nervously smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt.  
  
"Nonsense. There's no reason to rush. Let me repay your hospitality." Lafitte leaned over the table and poured tea into the cup in front of Firia. His smile was so predatory it might as well have had a hook in it. "I haven't had any reasonable company in a long time, Firia."  
  
Firia stared at the steam coiling above her cup. This was absurd, you couldn't drink here! She watched as Lafitte poured his own, then sipped the drink. This man...this boy...got stranger with every passing second. "Really, though, you seem to know your way around this place." _Now what you're **doing** here, that's a different issue._ "I'm looking for Xelloss."  
  
Lafitte let out a bark of laughter. "Know my way around? I LIVE here! Xelloss owns the place and I..." Lafitte rubbed his chin, contemplating the logistics of his tenure. "...I keep it clean."  
  
"Clean?" Firia pretended to sip at the tea, trying to appear polite.  
  
Lafitte grinned proudly, white teeth gleaming. "I keep the riffraff out."  
  
_You ARE riffraff._ "I see. Xelloss hired you?"  
  
"Yes." Lafitte beamed with pride. "Few _incarnt_ Mazoku would ever hire a _surinni_ like me. They think we're beneath their station, that it's not even worth their time to tell us any _incarnar_ news. But Xelloss is different. He gives us errands to do all the time, pays us fairly, gives us tips on which Lords might want one of us around permanently. Hell, he comes down to _surinnar_ regularly, just to talk with us. Doesn't expect nothing from us, treats us like we're _incarnt_, just like him. I tell ya, Xelloss cuts a square deal." Lafitte drained his cup, a smug grin alighting on his face. "I'm his favorite, ya know. He'll chat it up with the rest of 'em, but he never lets them into his home. And **I**," Lafitte poked his thumb into his chest, "me, Lafitte, I keep any intruders right in line for Xelloss, ya hear?" He leaned far over the table, his nose touching Firia's before she could blink. "So don't get any ideas, girl. I've got these eyes right on you, no matter what direction I'm facing!" Lafitte turned away as quickly as he had lunged forward, examining the wallpaper.  
  
Firia was stunned into silence, muddling inside her head the alien words Lafitte had spoken. Did he mean there were different races of Mazoku, just like with dragons? And was he telling the truth about working for Xelloss? And could he really see her with his back turned?  
  
"You look awful confused," Lafitte said, his back turned to her. "Hasn't Xelloss talked about us?" He faced her again. "He pals up with you LOTS more than he does with me." Lafitte's grin was a leer now, giving Firia an uncomfortable warmth in her cheeks. Surely Xelloss had never told...  
  
"He doesn't tell me about those kinda things, but damned if I don't ask!" Lafitte chuckled, banging his fist on the table. "I'm more curious about it than the others, see, because I might have a chance to **do** it, next time I go to-" Lafitte cut himself off. "But...um...you don't need to know about that, you know?"  
  
_Yes I **do** need to know, you damnable thing! Stop saying things without explaining what they are! How can you talk so much about so many things and make absolutely no sense!?_ "...Right." Firia smiled. _Maybe I can get him to say where Xelloss is if I just let him go on. I just need to keep him on track._ "So, how long have you been working for Xelloss?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know. I have trouble relating to _incarnar_ time." Firia watched the age on his face ebb and flow, and began to understand it. "Here in _surinnar_, we just don't have to measure things like that. But it's been a long time, I'm sure. It feels like less than forever and a lot more than just now." He winked at her, and Firia smiled back without apprehension. Lafitte almost seemed friendly now. "He came looking for security when he realized that there was only so much he could do by himself. I mean, what if another _incarnt_ darts past Xelloss' safety devices here and gets in? What could keep that out?" Lafitte smiled. "I can hear anything that gets in here, see it while it's still coming. That's easy for us _surinni_. And he can trust me. He can't trust a damn fellow _incarnt_, but he knows us _surinni_ don't play power games." His face clouded over. "_Surinni_ don't have that kind of ambition."  
  
Firia blinked. "Even dragons have ambition."  
  
"That's because they're wrong." Lafitte's stare drifted as he crossed his arms. His eyes gazed at a far away nothing.  
  
Feeling herself adrift in the silence, Firia said nothing. This mazoku was far different than any other of his kind she had met...in fact, she had never met anyone like him. And as coarse and intimidating as he was at moments, he spoke words that demanded her contemplation. She could trust him, strangely. He acted in a manner that was crooked but honest, and he was more loyal to Xelloss than she could imagine anyone but herself to be. The mazoku[..._surinni_?] was clever, and Firia wondered if this could be more to her advantage if she took a risk.  
  
"Xelloss is hurt." Firia met the _surinni's_ gaze. "You don't know it, but he's hurt very badly. I came without his permission because he needs my help."  
  
Confusion flicked across Lafitte's face, replaced quickly by a knowing smirk. "You lie. If something strong enough to hurt him rendered him helpless, then we wouldn't be alone together. He would retreat _surinnar_ like any wise _incarnt_." He raised an eyebrow at her, eyes watching her intensely. "Are you growing tired of my company?"  
  
"I speak the truth." Firia's voice was calm and quiet, with an ineffable firmness to it. "His physical shell was frozen solid when he crawled into my home. His clothing and skin showed signs of heavy abuse and he was beyond conscious thought. He's showing no signs of improvement no matter what physical aid I give him. I wouldn't come here if I thought I could be of any help on the physical plane..." Firia leaped to a conclusion. "...if I could aid him _incarnar_."  
  
Lafitte frowned, his face devoid of mirth. He considered Firia's words seriously for a long time before answering. "You seemed like an honest, trustworthy girl, Firia. But I'm afraid I can't believe you. I know exactly what Xelloss' condition is, because I know exactly where the _incarnt_ himself is." Lafitte's eyes told Firia exactly how angry he was at her percieved betrayal to him.  
  
Firia felt fear again, and saw in the _surinni's_ shift in posture that he could feel it too. But she let the fear go. She would convince Lafitte that she was speaking honestly. That was all there was to it. "Show me where Xelloss is, and if I am wrong then I will concede it."  
  
Lafitte cocked his head. "You'll accept responsibility for your words if I prove that they're false?"  
  
"Of course." Firia felt strangely calm as she accepted the terms of a mutually understood oath. "I'm in your hands if what I say is a lie."  
  
"Where I'm bringing you...it's not safe." Lafitte's concern for Firia barely showed behind his stony features. He wanted to hold her to her word, not hurt her.  
  
"Don't worry," Firia spoke with certainty of her integrity and of her capability. "I'll be fine." 


	5. Chapter 5

"You can't refuse to move."  
  
Xelloss crossed his arms in a defiant huddle. "I don't see any reason why not." His eyes carefully traced the crackled glaze along the wall opposite Dynast. For several days he hadn't deigned to look at the Supreme King. "I don't see a clock anywhere."  
  
Dynast walked at an idle pace around Xelloss, watching the board with every step. He drifted to his own side of the board and surveyed the pieces from the back, like a general appraising his soldiers as they battled. He stood there very quietly, his mouth drawn down as if he'd just swallowed something bitter.  
  
Xelloss' skin crawled as Dynast's shadow draped over him with an uncomfortable and clammy forwardness. "Watching your troops from behind, letting them worry about fighting the enemy?" A deep ache welled up between his shoulders. "I-ah!" The knife's influence was fickle, in an instant changing from the dull pulse of heartless ice to the burning chill of winter winds. Xelloss balled his hands into fists as he tried to dwell on the sensation of the seams on his gloves pressing into his skin. "I w-wonder how long ago it was that you actually fought a battle by yourself."  
  
Dynast's displeased expression shifted into a knowing smile. "You're only saying that because I'm winning."  
  
"Oh?" Xelloss kept his voice calm and even, unchanged by the knife's blistering ravages.  
  
"Yes, my servant. You're in denial of your position. You want to convince yourself that I don't, for all intents and purposes, own you now."  
  
Xelloss broke into a wide grin. "If you own me, then why haven't I moved in two days?"  
  
The smile slid off of Dynast's face. He lunged across the table and grabbed Xelloss by the neck. His grip secure, he yanked the priest out of his chair and dragged him across the table. As Dynast pulled the mazoku towards him, Xelloss' shirt snagged the chessboard, knocking the wooden battlefield onto the floor.  
  
Dynast held Xelloss up in front of him, the priest finally looking him in the eye as his feet dangled a foot over the ground. "Don't think for a moment that your lax nature is due to any neglect of mine." He flung Xelloss onto the table. As the knife met the surface and plunged fully into his back, Xelloss lost all physical control of his body. He watched Dynast swoop into his field of vision again. The Supreme King bent over him, his hands planted on the table, Xelloss between them.  
  
"Let's see...what's your move now, Xelloss?" Dynast raked his knuckles across the mazoku's cheek. Smiling, he watched a red collar of fresh bruises bloom across Xelloss' neck. He nudged the priest's head so that he could face him again. Xelloss' eyes were frozen in place, unblinking. "You can't tease me now, Xelloss. No more witty little snipes. No symbolic defiance. Hell, I think you're actually bearable like this." Dynast rested his arm on Xelloss' chest, propping himself up. Xelloss felt the guard of the knife press hard into his bruised flesh. "It's almost worth it to just leave you here until you're frozen enough to be of use to me."  
  
In the back of his mind, Xelloss could feel the knife holding him down. He strained against it, struggling for freedom. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break its grip.  
  
Dynast drummed his fingers on Xelloss' chest, humming an old folk tune. He leaned there for a very long time, comfortably smug. He finally slid his arm away with a sigh. "Oh well, Xelloss. It is after all your turn." He nonchalantly nudged Xelloss to the side, smirking as the priest hit the floor with a loud smack.  
  
As pain spiraled around him, Xelloss felt his muscles finally strain to obey him. Nevertheless, he lay on the floor and waited for the assault on his nerves to end. As he slowly brought his hands to rub the marks on his neck, Xelloss saw Dynast standing before him.  
  
The Supreme King nudged a fallen bishop with his foot. "Clean up your mess and set the board up as it was. I'll expect you to make your move when I get back." He walked away, whistling smugly.  
  
* * *  
  
Firia stepped before a round door woven from opaque stained glass. "I've never been here before."  
  
Lafitte nodded. "I know you haven't been here. Xelloss wouldn't bring a person he trusts into that room. It's his chamber for visiting with fellow _incarnt_ that he's wary of." He smirked. "That's a whole lotta _incarnt_, let me tell you. The guests can't sense the rest of Xelloss' abode from there. It's very private, very secure..." Lafitte swallowed and licked his lips, "...and often dangerous."  
  
Feeling her eyes drawn to the shadows trapped in the ripples of glass, Firia said, "Why is he in there?"  
  
Lafitte brought his hand to his chin. "What Xelloss does in his privacy is none of my business..."  
  
Firia gritted her teeth. _After your little quips about Xelloss and I's relationship, I doubt the validity of that statement._  
  
"...but he did pop in to tell me that he was in an important conference and was not to be disturbed."  
  
Firia looked up. "He did? When?"  
  
"Um." Lafitte scratched his head. "Not exactly recently, but not so long that I'd get to worrying. He's been gone for much longer, and with no harm to him."  
  
"Yes, but..." Firia glanced again to the door. Its twisted shadows seemed to look back at her with eyes of pitch. "Has he ever stayed inside of this room for that long?"  
  
"Well, no...hey!"  
  
Firia clutched the door's handle and wrenched it open before Lafitte could stop her.  
  
* * *  
  
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Xelloss smiled up at his visitor. "I cleaned." Above the priest, the chessboard lay on the table, its pieces stationed on and around it in the shape of a happy face. "Darn my shoddy memory. I forgot where all the soldiers went. Is that okay?"  
  
Dynast wasn't as happy as Xelloss was with the arrangement, and let the priest know through the poetry of brutality. Xelloss didn't care. For him, it was all about the little victories. 


	6. Chapter 6

Ducking away from Lafitte's grasp, Firia darted to the left wall of Xelloss' audience chamber. The _surinni_ cursed behind her. Suddenly he appeared in her path, grabbed her wrists and clutched her to his chest.  
  
"You little chit of a girl! Don't you dare run away-" Lafitte's tirade ended prematurely as he was hurled across the room. The wall stopped his flight rather efficiently and dropped him on the floor. Lafitte groaned and climbed to his knees, turning to face his aggressor.  
  
There was no assailant standing where Lafitte had been hit. High above that spot, however, Firia swung by her neck. The hand holding her up was grey and lifeless, its fingernails coated in frost. The end of its wrist linked onto a frozen chain that moved of its own volition. Wincing at the bitter chill of it, Firia clutched the chain for dear life. She had no reason to breathe here, but the floor was now a long way down. This thing could toss her around without any warning.  
  
Lafitte kept still, his body as mobile as a rock. He scanned the glass room for the hand's origin. _How can it see me move, though? It's a bloody HAND!_ The chain wound in spirals across the ceiling, leading to its owner...  
  
Firia looked to the center of the ceiling directly ahead of her. As she finally saw Xelloss, she almost lost her grip.  
  
His body was motionless, held still by hands of frost and chains of ice. The bonds wrapped all around him, holding him spreadeagled against the ceiling. His back faced the floor, and from it protruded the very same knife that Firia had pulled out of him _incarnar_. It was different, though - a loop was fastened to the end of its hilt, the frozen chains strung from it.  
  
"Lafitte...Laffite I told you...not to come..." Xelloss spoke like a drugged man, his voice so low that it seemed distant.  
  
Lafitte stared, eyes wide with shock. "What the hell has been going on in here?"  
  
Xelloss' eyes rolled back, his voice now cold and alien. "Not very much, actually. Xelloss and I have been talking for quite awhile now." The chains around the priest constricted, pulling him against the glass. "He takes a long time to convince."  
  
Firia screamed, clawing at the hand around her neck. In response, two hands darted forward to clutch her wrists. The chains wrapped around her arms, tugging firmly to restrain her. The chain pulling her neck went slack, the links around her arms now bearing her weight.  
  
"Did you have something to say?" Xelloss' mouth spoke the words of another. "I'll converse with you too, don't worry. I've almost convinced my first catch to accept his terms. It'll be lonely after that."  
  
Firia squirmed in the knife's icy embrace, watching Lafitte. He was slowly rising to his feet, a calculating look in his eyes.  
  
Xelloss snorted. "Don't even bother. I've won catches far bigger than you, scrawny little ether-growth."  
  
Lafitte snarled, clenching his fists. "How in all of the Planes did you sneak by me, you leech!?"  
  
Smirking, Xelloss' tone was smug and aloof. "Ah, so you are the janitorial service. _Surinni_ can see anything coming, can't they? But I never even approached your domain. There was no need to. I was already in here."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Lafitte glared up at Xelloss.  
  
"Well," Xelloss spoke as if to a child, "you see, there's this place called _incarnar_. You worthless little etheric bastards are oblivious to it, but more intelligent, powerful, important mazoku - such as myself - can walk around on it like they own it. Because we do own it, and anything else we care to take. In this wonderful little place called _incarnar_, my master weilded me expertly and planted me directly into the back of his shiny new piece of property, which you happen to be staring open-mouthed and stupidly at. So as I was already deep inside Xelloss' tasty little _incarnar_ body, I had no need to travel to his astral home." Xelloss paused. "Would you like me to go over this again, slowly? I realize that beings such as yourself are a bit mentally stunted."  
  
Lafitte roared with anger and leaped towards Xelloss as Firia looked on, helpless.  
  
* * *  
  
The board lay before Xelloss, its pieces returned to the positions they had stood in before it had been knocked askew. "I'm never going to move. You know that."  
  
Dynast rolled a defeated bishop between his fingers, smiling. "You may say that now, Xelloss. But I'll inevitably win as long as I possess you." He closed his fist over the chessboard clergyman.  
  
Xelloss shook from the bitter chill, or his bitter anger, or maybe both. "You don't possess me. I just happen to be in your chambers."  
  
Dynast chuckled. "Oh? And did you come here of your own free will?"  
  
Xelloss was silent.  
  
"The last time I checked..." Dynast ran a finger through Xelloss' hair, "...I dragged you into my home as a fresh acquisition. One of the spoils of war." Dynast twirled a lock of violet hair through his fingers. "You should really forget about Zelas. She can't help you now."  
  
"Don't you dare speak of her like that."  
  
"But she's dead, Xelloss. You need to understand these things. There's nothing I can do for her now." He stroked his hand through Xelloss' hair, fingers delicately brushing his neck. "But I can comfort you in your grief."  
  
"Why?" Xelloss hissed, hunching his shoulders. "Why do you try to force me to submit through brutality, then try again through this false affection? Why do you persist in this silly match when your own agent is strangling me in the ether? What does it matter if I come to you now, when by your claim, it's inevitable that I'll fall before you? Why do you waste my time torturing me?"  
  
Dynast rested his hand on the base of Xelloss' neck. "Why do I play the game when I know I'll win anyways? Is that why you've stopped, Xelloss? Do you think you can't lose if you don't move?" He snuck his hand forward, laying it against Xelloss' upper throat. "Xelloss, if you don't move, you forfeit."  
  
Closing his eyes, Xelloss laid his head back. "If I can't win, why should I play?"  
  
Dynast smiled, rubbing his fingers against Xelloss' neck. "Because I said so. And because the pretty dragon girl would cry if you gave up."  
  
Xelloss jerked and strained against the hand on his neck, but Dynast held him down.  
  
"Don't think I wasn't aware of your little escapades with her, Xelloss. I've been watching you for longer than you know." He caught Xelloss' wrists in his hand and forced the boy's arms down. "I was quite surprised by what I saw. Your former mistress has no grasp of proper discipline. After all, her most trusted servant...sleeping with the enemy..." He flung a leg over Xelloss' knees as the priest attempted to kick out with numbed feet. Facing Xelloss now, he leaned forward to look directly into his eyes. "You love her, don't you? You poor deluded thing. Were you so starved for Zelas' touch that you had to seek it in a dragon's nest? If I had known you needed it, I would have told Zelas that I could go without her company for a few nights." He squeezed his hand around Xelloss' neck, cutting off the boy's words before they could rise from his chest. Dynast leaned in closer, his lips almost touching the priest's.  
  
"I'll strangle her in her bed, you naughty little boy. I'll drag her corpse back to keep you company in your sleep. I will bury her next to Zelas and you can weep on both of their graves. Do you understand that?" He laid his cheek against Xelloss'. "You know how many things in this world could convince me not to murder a pretty dragon girl. I enjoy my hobbies as much as you enjoy your little acts of bestiality." He loosened his grip on Xelloss' throat. The priest was very quiet for a moment. "Well?"  
  
"...you...you bastard." Xelloss' voice was weak and dry. "I was happy with her."  
  
Dynast smiled, licking a tear out of the corner of Xelloss' mouth. "I know." He released Xelloss' wrists and gently leaned the boy forward, biting his ear. "But you'll get over her."  
  
Xelloss slid the first piece that he could touch forward. "Is that enough?"  
  
"To save her?" Dynast closed his hand over Xelloss' wrist and tugged it away from the board. "It will be." 


	7. Chapter 7

A giggle escaped Xelloss' mouth, his face blank. "Are you trying to look threatening? It's rather cute."  
  
Lafitte dodged as a hand swung at his throat. A chain swept up to knock him down, followed by more icy hands. His journey to Xelloss was constantly impeded by these silly obstacles. Avoiding them was effortless, yes, but they never stopped coming! "Blasted thing! How dare you invade Master Xelloss' inner chambers? And attacking the most trusted servant that Lady Zelas has. How could you be so badly mannered?" He lept to the side as a loop of chains fell from above, attempting to snare him. At least in this huge chamber of white woven glass there was plenty of room for evasion tactics.  
  
"A _surinni_ is giving me an etiquette lesson?" The knife's laughter was like steel sliding against stone. "You little runt. If Lord Dynast decides he wants to take some weak little bitch-queen's poor slave into more glorious service, then he'll do it. He deserves what he wants." An icy hand tenderly stroked Xelloss' hair. "I can't blame him for wanting pretty things." As Lafitte's mouth opened to issue a retort, the knife cut him off. "I'll take no more insulting titles from your mouth. If you're going to address me again, call me Edge." Xelloss' mouth drew up into a smirk. "From someone of _your_ diminuitive stature, I'll accept Master Edge."  
  
Lafitte growled. "I'll never call an **object** my master."  
  
Edge tsked. "Don't be so hasty. Look at who I possess. If I own him, and he owns you..." Xelloss' face shifted into a possessive smile. "...then you're mine."  
  
"He's NOT yours!" Lafitte narrowly escaped the clutching fingers of a hand approaching from behind. "Just because you're a thieving, sneaky bastard-"  
  
Xelloss shifted against the ceiling as frozen hands cradled his face. "No. He's all mine." Xelloss turned to face Lafitte, his eyes glassy and soulless. "What's wrong? Did you want him?" Fingers stroked the back of the priest's thigh. "Is that why he thought you were so vital to his existence? That's funny. Well, I guess it would work..." Xelloss cocked his head. "...a _surinni_ **would** make a wonderful bedtoy. I'm sure you weren't hard to train." Edge fully anticipated Lafitte's enraged lunge. Before the _surinni_ could react, he was snared in a web of chains and clutching fingers. He writhed in the knife's grasp, unable to escape as it cemented its hold with more gripping hands and winding links.  
  
"Pitiful little thing." A hand cupped Lafitte's chin, tapping his lip. "But very devoted. I can at least appreciate that. I understand now why Xelloss wasted his last real struggle on you."  
  
"What?"  
  
Xelloss smirked, Edge's smugness resonating through his voice. "Xelloss' only real struggles were his first ones. After that, I had him so bound that he could barely manage anything formidable. He apparently realized almost immediately that I would have him no matter what he did, but he never gave in to me. He managed to reach beyond my grasp only twice. Once in the beginning, to warn you away from me. And another very recently, to tell his cute dragon pet not to let you lead her in either. Well, I suppose he failed in both of his pursuits." Firia and Lafitte swung in Edge's grasp as he laughed. "But he seemed deeply concerned for the two of you. I suppose Xelloss values his bedmates that highly."   
  
Lafitte strained against the links. These were different than anything he'd ever touched _surinnar_. The cold in them froze him into place, rendering him unable to jump about the plane as he pleased. He'd never found anything that could hold him completely still. Damnit! Both he and Firia were trapped by this wretched thing!  
  
"We're not bedtoys." Firia spoke for the first time since Lafitte's losing battle had begun. "Xelloss cares for us because we care for him. It is a relationship of trust that he couldn't possibly find with any _incarnt_ like you."  
  
Lafitte blinked. Firia's voice, calm and quiet, stated exactly what he could not put into words. _Brava, girl._  
  
"Not a toy?" The chains holding Firia jerked her up and down, swinging her about. "I know what **I'd** want a pretty dragon like you for. But what Lord Dynast would do with you..." Firia dropped midair, the chains catching her just before she could smack against the floor. "...don't try to get yourself into trouble, little girl. My master would love to cut out that pretty little tongue of yours and listen to you beg with what mouth you had left. At least with me you'd be very..." A hand slid along her cheek. "...intact."  
  
Lafitte's eyes flashed. "**Don't you dare touch her, you bastard!**" His struggles were so wild that Edge almost worried for a second that he might lose his catch. But the knife's grip was unbreakable, and the _surinni_ would soon learn the futility of rebellion.  
  
As Lafitte jerked about, Firia watched Xelloss' face. If where it looked was any indication, then Edge's attentions were focused completely on the _surinni_.  
  
"Fool. But an entertaining fool. We'll see if Xelloss wants you anymore after he truly begins to serve my master. If not..." He squeezed the chains tight. "I'll keep you. _Surinni_ are so much fun to play with. After all, if you break them it's no loss."  
  
Firia concentrated, shutting Lafitte's screams out of her mind. Xelloss was extremely ill now, and what she was about to do...  
  
_There's no hope without trying._  
  
Firia relaxed her mind and slid into a trance. What she was about to attempt would be risky, but not difficult. She had always known light. She was familiar with the light. She could ask anything of the light. If she beckoned, it would come to her in a heartbeat. She wanted the light to come, to gently flow, to barely touch her. With a grip of steel and nervous precision, Firia eased the light in.  
  
Lafitte's chains loosened enough for him to relax as Edge stopped his torture in stunned amazement. They had seen a dull glow engulf Firia before she simply vanished. No fanfare, no farewell. Lafitte turned to face Edge.  
  
"So **that's** what you do with pretty dragon girls! You lose them!"  
  
* * *  
  
Xelloss sucked warm air into his 'lungs', each breath burning his chest. The painful gasps were relentless; Xelloss couldn't stop them. He only truly breathed in fits of severe panic or worry, and he had been gulping in air like a stranded fish ever since Dynast finally left him alone.  
  
After Dynast had dragged him into his bed, Xelloss no longer felt chills. A fever was consuming him as the knife tightened its grasp with every second. He was colder than ever before, everything he touched singing his skin with its warmth. Even the chess pieces had their own heat for Xelloss now, and they were lifeless chunks of rock.  
  
Where was Dynast? The Lord's absence made the priest more nervous. He knew about Firia, and Xelloss didn't trust him to leave her at peace. Xelloss curled his fingers into fists, feeling the lack of his gloves ever since Dynast had taken-  
  
A shiver consumed Xelloss' body. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself through the onslaught, his limbs shaking so hard that it hurt. Nothing he could do would stop it! Nothing would stop Dynast from doing whatever he desired to Firia. Xelloss couldn't behave for the Supreme King in the conditions he was forced into every time they talked. He wasn't even given a chance to try. The icy bastard enjoyed punishing him too much.  
  
The cold bitter fire in his chest was consuming Xelloss. What could he do? He couldn't prostrate himself before Dynast knowing that his actions were not only in vain, but could be twisted to harm himself even more. Doing nothing was just as dangerous - if Dynast declared Xelloss was in debt to him, then Firia would feel the payment! What to do?! **What to do?!**  
  
Xelloss clutched a bishop he'd claimed from Dynast - _was that 500 years ago?_ - between his fingers. This was quite different from Xelloss' men. His pieces were simple miniatures carved from tourminilated quartz, the artisan too bewitched with the beauty of thousands of tiny black arrows piercing white flesh to marr it with any kind of detail. Dynast's army contrasted this simplicity, and the clergyman that Xelloss was currently strangling stood as a fine example of its allies' superb craftsmanship. The artist must have molded the pure, flawless quartz with his fingers to achieve such graceful curves in rigid stone. Details were picked out so finely that his hands surely were steadier than the bedrock itself. This carving was a perfect manipulation of medium and tool to create something far superior to the mere gravel that formed-  
  
Xelloss winced, relaxing his death-grip on the man. In his anger he'd squeezed so hard that the piece had cut him in self-defense. He stared at the quartz carving. A priest made entirely of ice - a shaft of cold pain bit through him - standing in an obedient posture stared soullessly back with a face of perfect docility.  
  
  
It was with a sobered expression that Xelloss finally realized the knife in him was beginning to truly work. A part of him was entirely frozen, inaccessible to him. It had been nulled so completely that he had been unaware of its passing.  
  
His power of denial was dead. Without it he could only stand the torture and tactics for so long until he either gave himself to Dynast or was led to him by the knife's reins. Facing cold reality with no defenses against it...this was Xelloss' death sentence.  
  
Xelloss felt grief well up and almost consume him, but his stubborn will refused to make his passing that easy on him. It wasn't fair. Faced with certain death followed by rebirth into a life of oblivion, Xelloss still couldn't make himself stop caring. Worry for Firia and thoughts of Zelas plagued him so much that he suspected he might just die of anxiety.  
  
A faint noise slowly caught Xelloss' attentions, and he glanced at the chessboard. It was the sound of rock sliding against weak fibers. He had been scratching into the board with his captured bishop for the past five minutes. His previous thoughts completely forgotten, Xelloss cracked a smile as he realized how infuriated Dynast would be at this. He had etched a sizeable crater into the playing field - _perhaps one of the pawns has a cannon_ - piercing thick layers of varnish to scour at the fine dark mahogany underneath.  
  
He is going to be **so** angry... Xelloss could only laugh. He'd be beaten within an inch of his sensibilities, but why worry about trivial things like that? Xelloss just wanted to see the expression on Dynast's face when he realized that his chessboard had a foxhole.  
  
Lifting it away from his holey altar, Xelloss began scratching the bishop into the table's surface. His thirst for contrition wasn't that great, but he was finding the habit relaxing in a way that only calculated destruction could be. His nerves were being soothed for the first time in days. Xelloss set the bishop to carving tiny spirals in his little corner, penance for being Dynast's ideal servant. As Dynast would probably say of Xelloss, the bishop made a fine instrument when it simply allowed itself to be wielded.  
  
_That's it._  
  
Xelloss didn't allow his hand to slow its pace, didn't let his therapy pause in his moment of hope. His mind raced at the potential and factors that the weeks ahead could contain, making fast and excited calculations at a frantic speed. He had to keep himself calm. He had to look as normal as ever to Dynast. He couldn't give himself away now, now that he had a plan.  
  
There was no room for dignity now. Dynast would get anything he wanted - respect, humility, flattery...Xelloss grimaced. He would have to be a good boy for a long time. He hoped he could get used to Dynast's touch on a daily basis, because he expected that would be one of the compromises involved in his scheme. He could do it, though. He had hope now, and that would allow him to do overcome Dynast's manipulations and taunts. Firia wouldn't feel Dynast's frosty gaze upon her if he could help it. He clutched the chesspiece in his palm.  
  
_You're the perfect role model, you know. I wonder if I'll make a good bishop._  
  
Xelloss' gaze traced the room for a long time. Marble and ivory, intricate reliefs and ornate scaffolding. It was a grand game room, but cold and white and deathly pale. It had scared Xelloss slightly when he had first come to play many centuries ago. Now it terrified him.  
  
_I'll have to be a very, very good boy._ Xelloss looked up, feeling the pressure change. Was Dynast back alr-  
  
Dynast overturned the table in an angry zeal to show Xelloss his appreciation of the priest's carving skills. He found himself on the floor, trapped under the chair as Dynast wound his fingers around Xelloss' wrists.  
  
"You're going to remember this lesson in etiquette, my boy."  
  
"Y-yes sir..." Xelloss closed his eyes as Dynast knocked away the chair and straddled him. The Supreme King used his knuckles as a teaching aid, too intent on instructing his student to notice the faint scritching as Xelloss carved blind spirals into the floor. 


	8. Chapter 8

Firia awoke in a cold sweat, struggling against the frozen grip of hands that she could still feel clasping her limbs. But the hands weren't there, despite the ghostly touches that whispered against her skin. In that confusing moment sandwiched between dreaming and waking, clarity suddenly doused Firia's nerves with ice water. She was _incarnar_, distanced from Lafitte and Edge in a way that physical increments could not measure.  
  
She scrambled up, trying to summon both orientation and sense in one awkward lunge. Tangled in sheets and blankets, Firia fell on top of Xelloss' sleeping form. Careful! She summoned a bit of calm into her, picking herself up slowly. Xelloss was still cold but he no longer felt like a frozen corpse. This touched Firia's nerves and soothed them, certainly the biggest relief of this crazy, trying day. She welcomed the good news, letting it seep into her tense muscles and beating heart.  
  
Okay. She was out of the bed now. She was creeping along the floor, her steps as soft as the fall of snowflakes. Firia paused before the doorway to the bathroom, reminding herself to breathe. Then she slowly leaned her head around to peek inside, her nerves drawing tight again.  
  
It looked just like a normal bathroom.  
  
Firia swallowed, her throat dry and sore. She forced her legs to move, ordered her body to proceed into the room. Her eyes traced every corner and curve in here. Her neck tingled. At any moment, she expected an icy hand to clutch her throat.  
  
Nothing. No creepy monsters, no evil demons. The bathroom was just as she left it, a bit messy but nothing...terrifying...in the mess. The knife stared up at her from the bathtub, surrounded by solid ice. It had completely frozen the bathwater.  
  
It looked so innocent, like some curio for display. A pretty bit of glass that might possibly serve as a letter opener. A novelty.  
  
Firia hated it even more now.  
  
Ice? It wanted to turn its resting place to ice? Well. Firia was fine with that notion.  
  
She drew in a breath, the air in here warmed from the merrily crackling hearth. Inside her chest the air heated. The sensation was comforting, like she was drinking a mug of hot tea. Within her breast the warmth kindled into fire, the burning even more welcome. It rose in her, rushed through her veins, seeping into her heart and blossoming into a thermal core. This was what love felt like. This was anger and passion. This was what moved her blood to beat every second of the day. Firia embraced the heat, felt it embrace her, and then let it go in a gasp of molten fury.  
  
Steam rushed around her face. Her skin was brushed with wet heat and then left to cool, beads of moisture collecting in the strands of her hair. Firia's eyes cut through the fog as it cleared. The ice was gone. The water was gone. The bathtub was gone.  
  
But the knife was still there.  
  
In a fit of rage that drowned out rationality, Firia grabbed the knife. Her roar of anger muted the pain in her hand as the knife tried to claim in frost what touched it. She darted out of the bathroom and lunged across the bedroom, half blinded by hatred for the vile thing in her grasp. She wrenched the hot grate of the hearth open with as much regard for the searing pain in her fingers as she had given the frozen agony that wracked her other hand.  
  
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Firia flung the blade into the fire and slammed the grate closed.  
  
* * *  
  
Lafitte had lost the strength to give a proper struggle as Edge's strangling fingers attempted to squeeze the ether out of him. He hung limp in the knife's grasp, thinking somberly about his impending future. Was he going to die? He didn't want that. As a _surinni_, he was ever ready to be reunited with his Chaotic Mother. But as it went with many of his kind, ready was not the same as eager.  
  
"I'll kill you! I'll wring your worthless astral hide into nothing and then take out the rest of my frustrations on your beloved master! You _surinni_ are NEVER worth the trouble of grooming into proper pets! Your only worth is in the mild entertainment that results from your pitiful death!" Edge was livid, his words screamed through Xelloss' voice and punctuated with the priest's enraged face.  
  
It was kind of funny, Lafitte mused. Firia was a clever girl. He hadn't given her enough credit. He would never have expected anyone who had just now discovered the principles of astral reality to make the conclusions she did. It was perfectly logical to assume that holy energies would break the seals this chamber imposed on her and send her back _incarnar_. But even with that grand leap of sense, he was more shocked at her amazing control over astral force. She must have known how that light could hurt Xelloss. She had brought in just enough energy to free herself without poisoning him.  
  
Very, very impressive. Lafitte wished that he would be alive long enough to tell her that.  
  
"Do you hear me? I will gorge myself on your pain and then cleanse my palate with my Master's servant's last fluttering gasps of agony. You'll be dead! He'll be mine! And that blasted dragon bitch will die at this priest's hands when Lord Dynast possesses his loyalties fully! She'll scream for mercy-"  
  
Xelloss let out a scream of agony so piercing that the glass around the room vibrated along with the keening resonance.  
  
The chains around Lafitte's body grew slack, the fingers losing their grip as the icy mass of links convulsed. As Edge's web of frost shuddered, Lafitte slipped from his bonds and floated nearer to his friend. Xelloss was silent and perfectly still, Edge's voice piercing the chamber with no tongue to craft it. The knife was shaking in the priest's back, a fracture cleaving its handle.  
  
Lafitte leapt quickly, darting to pull Xelloss from Edge's failing grasp. He dragged his master away from Edge's weakened grip and glided away to a low corner. As the last of Edge's cold fingers parted from Xelloss, Lafitte grabbed the knife's handle and pulled it from its living sheath. As the blade finally left Xelloss' back it crumbled into burning dust. Lafitte crouched in the corner, his body shielding his master's as Edge's labyrinthine coils burst into a spray of freezing shrapnel.  
  
It was a long time before Lafitte could bring himself to move again. He finally lifted himself away from Xelloss and looked around the chamber. Nothing. No trace was left behind of Edge. The room was even beginning to feel warm, curiously enough...  
  
"Firia? Is that coming from you?" Lafitte caught Firia as she fell before him, her astral form matching her physical one in abrasions and in heat. "What the hell did you do?"  
  
Firia slumped against Lafitte, her senses reeling from the quick departure _surinnar_. She hadn't been ready for it, but waiting for recovery wasn't even a possibility in her mind. "I burned Edge into ashen frost. How is Xelloss? Are you okay?"  
  
Lafitte shook his head and leaned Firia back, laying her beside Xelloss. "You shouldn't have come back here as hurt as you are. These things carry over."  
  
Running her hands over Xelloss' face, Firia willed some of her warmth into him. The priest looked much more ill here than _incarnar_. His face showed his fatigue so much that it almost appeared aged. The faint blue tinge of his skin was marked by dark purple bruises. There were scratches on his body where sharp fingernails had clutched him too eagerly. But the abrasions were secondary to the aura of weariness that consumed Xelloss. His torture on this plane had been very prolonged and acute. Dynast obviously had given Xelloss a rough time _incarnar_, but this was where all the worst damage had really happened.  
  
Lafitte watched Firia's hands smooth his master's hair and realized that it would be a long time before the dragon would put aside her concern for Xelloss. And he really didn't blame her. He was just as worried for the _incarnt_. But someone had to take care of the practical things, like-  
  
Firia glanced up at Lafitte as he gently touched her arm. His eyes were dark with anxiety. "This may seem like the end of our troubles, but they are far from over. You and Xelloss are in extreme danger right now. I can't explain as much as I should because this is too urgent. You two have bodies laying around _incarnar_, and it won't take Dynast long to follow Xelloss to your home. When he does, he musn't find anything important left behind. _Incarnt_ can stay entirely _incarnar_ or _surinnar_ as they please. But you and I are different. As a dragon, you're lucky enough to be able to do as much _surinnar_ travel as you have. You cannot completely cross over on your own. And I, as a _surinni_, am usually bound to this plane. But if you agree to trade your _incarnar_ nature for my _surinnar_ aspects, then I can move both you and Xelloss completely _surinnar_. After I do so, I will hide _incarnar_ and wait for Xelloss to return us to normal. You must agree to this. There is no other way that the both of you will remain safe."  
  
The words caused a thousand questions to assault Firia's mind, but she let her curiosity go. She knew that this situation was too urgent for that. "If I do this, what next? I'm injured and Xelloss' condition is beyond my healing abilities. I won't have a guide without you here, and I'm too much of a novice to do guesswork with his situation this critical."  
  
Lafitte realized that Firia was absolutely right. Even if she was safe, she and Xelloss were too vulnerable like this. "You've seen the stars outside, right? They are the limitless possible destinations on this plane. Have you traveled to any?"  
  
Firia nodded. "I've journeyed to some by myself, and Xelloss accompanied me on a few expeditions."  
  
"Excellent. Look for the golden star. You won't have seen it before, because it only appears to those who purposefully seek it. But you cannot miss it. After you feel your body settle completely onto this plane, take as long as you need to get oriented properly. After that, go quickly to the golden star." He paused, an inner debate apparent on his face for a moment. After his features resolved, he went on. "Tell them that you were sent by Rahanalili." He took her hands in his. "Now give me your body. Please."  
  
Firia summoned her courage, and intoned, "You may take of my _incarnar_ nature what you wish, if I receive an equal gift."  
  
"You are truly a gem, Firia. I'm glad I could meet you again." Lafitte pulled with an astral grip, tugging himself onto the physical plane as Firia blinked at his words. 


	9. Chapter 9

Anger had consumed Dynast from the moment he entered his game room to discover that his beloved possession was being a brat again. This kind of childish behavior was not what Dynast expected from Xelloss. He had told the boy exactly what was at stake for him. Dynast had let him know very clearly what his position was supposed to be in this game. As he threw the table to the floor, Dynast sent the chess pieces flying. Xelloss toppled over in his chair with the same sweep of the Supreme King's hand.  
  
The punishment was sweet in its satisfaction, but bitter in its reality. Xelloss wasn't learning. He was supposed to be a good boy for Dynast. That's what he was, after all, Dynast's obedient and humble servant. The King wiped a drop of blood away from his knuckles and drew a small knife from the pocket of his smoky blue duster. Xelloss just needed a little reminding, that was all.  
  
Surely the boy would eventually realize that deep down he wanted this all along. It was just taking so much time. Why couldn't everyone see reason like Dynast did?  
  
This was so difficult. Xelloss was so stubborn that Dynast couldn't just let him off easy. He had to be especially brutal just to get any reaction from Xelloss at all. So what if he was being cruel? It was better that Xelloss scream from his ministrations than stay silent and inattentive. Dynast wanted some attention. Even a blow made in anger was precious. It had been so long...ages and ages before he could touch Xelloss, even like this. The mazoku had always stayed just out of his reach, barely dodging Dynast's secret advances in movements that were seemingly accidental. This chess game had stretched on for thousands of years. So many days Dynast invited the boy over just to see him, just for that all-too-rare chance to win him. But Xelloss always evaded, making his annoying gambits, dragging the game into some sort of farce. He played as if he really thought Dynast had called him over simply to experience the joy of chess. He never acknowledged the King's hints, even when Dynast moved far beyond the bounds of subtlety. He just played his stupid game while Dynast looked on with tortured desire.  
  
Dynast shrugged his pinstriped shoulder cloak off to avoid the risk of marring it with copper streaks. Xelloss had to have known. How could the boy not know what Dynast wanted? If he was such a brilliant servant, then why did he have to be so utterly dull around the Supreme King? He must have known. **He must have known**!  
  
...But Dynast didn't want that. He didn't want to believe that Xelloss had strung him along for thousands of years without even being kind enough to return his advances. If Xelloss knew that Dynast wanted him, then his ignorance was really all just cruel taunting. He couldn't have been knowlingly torturing Dynast all that time. Xelloss wouldn't be that mean to him. No, Xelloss was just sadly oblivious of Dynast's true feelings, just as the priest was ignorant of his own feelings for the Supreme King. That was the only possible explanation for his actions.  
  
But after last night, the priest should have understood his place in Dynast's court. There was no excuse for him now. He was just being rebellious for no good reason. Such behavior had to be corrected harshly.  
  
"You're such a bad boy," Dynast stroked Xelloss' cheek, pausing as his fingertips felt damp skin. Were these tears?  
  
"I'm sorry," Xelloss whispered, his voice cracking with what seemed like genuine regret. As he opened his mouth to speak again, Xelloss shivered under Dynast's hand, his words freezing in his throat.  
  
Dynast stared at Xelloss' face as if he had just now laid eyes upon it. His hand rested against the boy's cheek for a long time before he slid to the floor and gently turned Xelloss' body to the side. He felt his servant's shivers halt as the weight was taken off of the knife in his back.  
  
In stunned silence, Dynast numbly braced himself against the fallen table and stood up. He righted the table, dragging the chairs into place as his thoughts sank into a tangle of confusion. Was Xelloss...did he just hear...the priest cried for him? He leaned on the table, steadying his mind. As Dynast tried to find reason in what he'd just witnessed, something brushed his thigh. He turned in surprise.  
  
Xelloss had dragged himself towards his King and was carefully placing the board on the table. As Dynast watched in stunned amazement, the boy picked up the scattered chess pieces and meticulously arranged them in their proper positions on the scarred mahogany. After he nudged the last pawn onto its square, Xelloss pulled himself before Dynast's feet. His legs twisted behind him, the muscles in them frozen and numb. "I am sorry, my King," Xelloss lowered his head in shame, "I cannot kneel."  
  
Dynast pushed away the increasing urge to rejoice. After all, this was no real indication of Xelloss' true intentions. How could the priest be so agreeable all of a sudden? He was a clever trickster, after all. Maybe he had finally gotten so desparate that he was willing to take traumatic blows to his own ego. Yes, perhaps this was just brilliant acting on his servant's part. Dynast's voice was calm, but edged with suspicion. "Your commendable change in manners is very sudden, Xelloss."  
  
"Master, I'm sor-" A shudder ran through Xelloss' body, his arms shaking under his weight. "I..." He fell to the floor as Dynast watched him intently. The frozen King felt pain wash over him, ebbing from wounds that he had carved into Xelloss himself only minutes before. Dynast let his senses shift around, trading the visual for the astral to examine Xelloss on a level that was impossible to lie on.  
  
Speech retreated beyond Xelloss' reach as ragged breaths invaded his lungs. The gulps came faster and faster, assaulting Xelloss while Dynast watched the priest's emotions broil.  
  
Yes, there was a great deal of pain here. Dynast winced. He usually tried to ignore the true depth of Xelloss' suffering out of kindness to himself. Why torture himself with guilt when Xelloss was to blame for this? The agony was diverse, flowing through Xelloss in many currents. The knife was much stronger than him now, piercing his soul with bitter frost. And behind that were more subtle aches: grief for his former mistress and guilt for his former girlfriend. But these were merely aftertastes to Xelloss' pain. The wounds and contusions that Dynast had dealt were much stronger in aroma. However...Dynast frowned. Xelloss' mind wasn't preoccupied with pain. The mazoku's thoughts were almost entirely centered on fear. He blinked away his astral vision, focusing his eyes on Xelloss' shadowed face. The King sank down, sitting beside his servant to brush locks of violet out of his eyes.  
  
_Should I let myself be so kind?_ Dynast watched as Xelloss shuddered from another wave of pain, the priest hyperventilating as panic wrapped around him. _He can't fake that. I can **feel** the terror. I can't torture him beyond what fear itself is doing to him. And...I don't want to._ Dynast slid his hand over Xelloss' cheek, warming the chilled flesh. _I can reassure him now. I'll know if he really is sincere if I can feel his panic die down._ "It's okay, my servant. I understand how hard this is for you. Take your time."  
  
Relief flooded over Xelloss, his breath growing slower and less ragged. Dynast slid his hand to rest against the priest's side, distinctly feeling his ribs under cloth and skin. _He really is too pale._ The King let the observation slide for now, his thoughts focused on his servant's emotional spectrum. Sure enough, Xelloss slid out of panic and into a tentative calm. His chest stopped heaving and his breathing almost stopped entirely. The mazoku opened his eyes. Xelloss glanced up at Dynast's face for only a second, his gaze darting away in a flicker of fear.  
  
Dynast stared. Was Xelloss showing modesty? "Are you feeling better?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Xelloss winced and his eyes lost focus for a moment. He closed them. "I'm sorry, my King. It...it all hurts so much."  
  
Dynast spread his palm over Xelloss' chest, allowing energy from his vast stores to rush into his servant's wounds. A sigh of relief escaped Xelloss' lips as his body started to heal. Dynast smiled. "I'm glad you're feeling better." His voice remained warm and consoling, not giving away his suspicions. "What were you so afraid of?"   
  
Xelloss looked up with nervous eyes, timidly meeting the King's gaze. Dynast resisted the urge to chuckle at the priest's shyness. He smoothed his servant's hair back as Xelloss began to speak.  
  
"I...I've always been uncomfortable around you, my King. Every time I came here to play chess, I felt myself drawn to your presence. You have a natural charisma about you that just pulled me back every time I was away. It was hard to fight it. It didn't feel right to resist you. But I felt so strange around you, and my feelings led me to such confusion that I fled. I pretended nothing was going on because I was so afraid of you. I was afraid of merely being around you. I...I was terrified. Terrified that my facade might slip and give me away. It was so difficult to stay composed in your presence. I...I'm so sorry, my King. When I found Firia, the dragon girl, I could ignore my confusion. Dragons are such intoxicating creatures, and it was bad of me to fall so deeply into one of their trances. But she bewitched me into loving her! I can't change it! She made me so happy, and...and I love her so much. It must have been easy for her to entrance me, since I was so obsessed with my feelings for you already..." Xelloss curled into Dynast's arms. "...Reason was beyond me, my King. Please don't be mad. I was trying so hard to find solace from my confusion. I should have found it in you." He blinked away the foggy blindness of tears. "Please don't kill her. _Please_. I still love her. You can make me so much happier, but I couldn't bear her death. After losing Zelas, I don't think I could live with that. Please just take me into your service." Xelloss squeezed his eyes shut. "You can make me forget about her."  
  
The realization fell around Dynast like a warm blanket. _I've won._  
  
"It's okay, Xelloss. I would never hurt you. From now on there'll be no more worries, no more games, no more confusion. You don't have to be afraid anymore. I'll protect you."  
  
"Oh, _thank you_, my King. Thank you so much."  
  
"I'd do anything for you, you know."  
  
"I've always known that."  
  



	10. Chapter 10

"How do you do it?"  
  
The stone bishop silently stared back at Xelloss with its eternal placating smile.  
  
"No, really. I want to know."  
  
The bishop gave no reply.  
  
"I don't understand you." Xelloss' gaze trailed across the walls, traversing carved marble and gilded statues. "How can you bear to live like this?" He really did know that there would be no answer. Xelloss hadn't gone delusional just quite yet. But the damned bishop looked so comfortable in its servile role that the priest wondered if its face should appear more smug. The tiny clergyman was important to him, anyways. It was his inspiration.  
  
Besides, Xelloss was glad to talk to anything that wasn't Dynast. Inanimate objects were certainly more engaging, and a even a rock had more tact than that icy bastard did.  
  
"I'm really quite impressed with you. That's said in all honesty. I may have visited him for millenia, but you had to LIVE with that frozen horse nugget." Xelloss raised his wine glass, it and its contents a gift from Dynast for his newfound good behavior. "To Bishop. For infinite patience."  
  
Bishop smiled back as always.  
  
"And believe me," Xelloss sipped his wine, feeling a tiny rush of warmth trickle into him before the blade snuffed it, "I know exactly how hard it is to be perfect when Dynast is the judge. I'm grateful for your guidance, however silent it may be." Xelloss stared into the golden depths of his wine. "Staying with him and acting like I adore him is a trial, but I have you to remind me..." The mazoku stared at Bishop's docile visage and inwardly cringed, "...of what's in store for me if I fail." Xelloss sipped another mouthful of gold, wishing that its warmth weren't so fleeting. "I like you, Bishop. But becoming you is quite possibly my greatest fear."  
  
Xelloss traced the chess piece's tiny features with his finger. It was terrifying, really. He was now Dynast's perfect servant in training, and the only ally he had in his secret resistance was Dynast's perfect servant in perpetuity.  
  
_Even so, I have so much more hope now. I may be constantly terrified that I'll blow the entire ruse in Dynast's presence, but the hope is worth it._  
  
Xelloss bit his lip.  
  
_And after what Dynast told me last night...I have more reason to escape than ever before._ Xelloss held Bishop in his fingers and lifted his tiny acolyte to meet his gaze.  
  
"What do you think? Can I make it out of here? Be honest."  
  
Bishop's smile was nothing but encouraging.   
  
  
* * *  
  
END OF PART ONE  
  
* * *  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Lafitte clung tight to the oath that Firia had sworn, dragging himself along its unbreakable iron links. The oath was his mooring to the _incarnar_ realm, steady but still precarious in a frightening way. The depths of transition between realities were like a tempest. The safe, reliable feel of _surinnar_ shook around him. As he plunged down, Lafitte felt vertigo lean on him and sink into his mind.  
  
_Where am I?_ The thought rushed to Lafitte's head as he lost his sense of direction. It was completely alien to Lafitte not know where he was at all times. _Surinni_, in their home reality, had a perfect innate sense of location. But that knowledge had been ripped away from him now, replaced by ignorance and confusion.  
  
He wished fervently that Xelloss was here with him now. He'd never made this journey on his own before. Xelloss had always guided him very closely on these trips, leading him through the walls of madness that made up the edge between astral and physical. A _surinni_ was badly adapted to any travel outside of its own reality, and it was rare for one to make it _incarnar_ without anything to guide it past the veil and into some sort of physical host. Lafitte's saving grace was that he had Firia's will to lead him down. Without that, he would be lost.  
  
Lafitte wanted to move faster now, but his progress slowed. He was approaching _incarnar_ now. He couldn't just move through space as if it were nothing, traveling in a blink. No, movement _incarnar_ actually required _effort_.  
  
"Ugh." Lafitte swallowed his distaste for the bland aspects of _incarnar_. It wasn't all drudgery, he knew, but the plane certainly had its drawbacks.  
  
...had its drawbacks...Laffite blinked. _Oh, shit._  
  
He was almost there now, which meant that a new alien factor was rearing its ugly head.  
  
Time.  
  
Lafitte hated time with a burning and murderous passion. It didn't settle right with him. Time had no relevance to _surinni_. They weren't beyond it in _surinnar_, but they didn't have to pay attention to it either. In fact, they couldn't. Even with Xelloss' explanations, Lafitte hadn't understood time until he'd experienced it _incarnar_. Being time-bound in reality was disorienting. It didn't work correctly for him, anyways. Time at points hiccupped around him without warning, misplacing itself in tiny jolts. And as far as he was concerned, time could go bugger itself with a-  
  
THUNK.  
  
Lafitte's first action _incarnar_ was to curse out the floor. It was too damn hard, especially when his head was hitting it. And it was too hot, too. What was wrong with Firia? Was she trying to turn this place into a furnace?  
  
"Holy Dissonant Mother!" Fire! There was fire all around him!  
  
Lafitte scrambled awkwardly past the shards of an iron stove and to the mercifully untouched bed where Firia and Xelloss lie. There was no time to push them _surinnar_. He had to drag them out of this death trap. Lafitte glanced at the window above the bed and then searched for something he could throw at it. His eyes ran across a large, ornate vase full of heat-wilted flowers. Quickly Lafitte covered Xelloss and Firia's bodies with a blanket and then grabbed the vase. His arms strained from the abrupt amount of physical work. _Surinni_ weren't made for labor! He swung the vase back, then lurched forward and heaved it at the window, ignoring the pain in his muscles as they burned from the effort.  
  
The window splintered open with a crash. Shards of glass sprayed through the air, mostly landing outside. Lafitte wrapped a nearby sheet around his hand and knocked away the shards still attached to the windowpane. He then scrambled out, careful to avoid the splintered glass on the ground. He spread the sheet over it and leaned inside again. Lafitte grabbed Xelloss and pulled him outside, thanking chaos itself that the _incarnt_ was so light. He set Xelloss down and then reached inside for Firia. Damn it! Why were dragons so heavy?! Laffite strained as hard as he could, his heart beginning to pound as the heat inside grew more intense. Hot wind rushed around him; the air was as desparate as himself to get out.  
  
Finally Lafitte pulled Firia's body over the sill and lurched to support her full weight. He stumbled away from the crackling inferno of a house and dropped her at a safe distance from it into the thick dewy grass. Lafitte ran back to the house, grabbed Xelloss, and carried him to Firia. He collapsed next to the dragon, his master still in his arms.  
  
Air - he had to _breathe_ here, that's right - burned through Lafitte's lungs as he panted with exhaustion. Drowning in oxygen, his head throbbed. His body cried out for rest from the shock of abrupt physical labor. But Lafitte couldn't stop now. He had none of this damnable time to waste. He reached for Xelloss' hands and grabbed the _incarnt's_ wrists. The mazoku's body was made for interplanar transit, and thus Lafitte could pull him into _surinnar_ effortlessly.   
  
The _surinni_ turned to Firia. This was going to be much more difficult. Dragons had as much business being completely _surinnar_ as he had being on the physical plane. At least there was the oath. Such a pact could often enforce itself with a little encouragement. Lafitte mentally searched for the unfinished deal that linked him with Firia, his thoughts scrambling in a panic when it didn't immediately appear. He had to hurry! Dynast was fast, and his anger made him faster. If the King found Firia here...he did horrible things to dragons, and that was only as a sick pastime. Now he would have revenge as his motivation.  
  
There it was! Relief surged through Lafitte as his mind tripped across the thread binding him to Firia in a spoken contract. It was so difficult to find such things _incarnar_ with no practice and a blunted sense of reality. But now the lifeline was in his mental grasp, and a quick tug on it did the trick. It really wasn't that hard at all - the contract fulfilled itself with the _surinni's_ nudge. Firia's body vanished in a flash of light, joining her astral soul and fortifying it.  
  
Lafitte felt his limbs go slack as panic flowed out of him, relieving the unbearable weight that tension had placed on his shoulders. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair, brushing the large coffee-colored streak from his eyes. Like all _surinni_, his physical appearance differed from his astral features. He still had the same green eyes and honeyed skin, though, and the hump in his nose hadn't left. He smiled, letting himself truly adjust to his new body. Xelloss and Firia were safe now, and that made everything so much better.  
  
Suddenly, the house across the yard groaned in pain as it began to collapse within its cage of fire. Lafitte almost jumped out of his newly accquired skin at the sound. He watched with numb, detached horror as the whole structure fell in a rush of searing wind and crackling sparks. His chest ached with the pain of loss. That had been the first house he'd known, the first _incarnar_ place that he'd loved. And the strange family that had lived in it...he could feel those memories. He knew the souls of places with the same familiarity that any mazoku had with the souls of the living. He couldn't go on watching this house burn to death. It was too tragic. His legs shook as Lafitte tried to stand, the shock and exertion taking their toll heavily. Lafitte hit the ground as his knees gave way beneath him, _a grin as cold as a shark's lurking on his face as his eyes raked over the body of his newly captured prey_-  
  
Panic screamed through Lafitte's senses as he tried in vain to scramble to his feet. Finding it impossible to stand up, he made a mad lunge on his hands and knees towards the concealing darkness in the taller grass a few yards away. A sharp blow to his ribs threw the _surinni_ to the ground. Another blow hit him in the stomach and sent him rolling in the dirt. He flailed for balance, trying to lift himself up from his prone position without wilting from the pain. A foot planted itself onto the middle of his back and shoved him down again. It remained there, pressing just hard enough to keep Lafitte still but allowing him enough room to catch his breath. Lafitte slumped against the dewy soil, feeling his lungs recover from the assault, supressing the urges to retch that his stomach gave him. The moment he twitched the boot shoved him down harder, knocking the wind out of him again.  
  
"Don't you dare move, you wretch." The icy voice froze Lafitte's blood. Though the tone was even, the _surinni_ could feel fury radiating from above him. The pressure on his back relented again. "All I want you to do is breathe."  
  
Lafitte obeyed, not daring to move a muscle again, just concentrating on the rise and fall of his chest as any vestige of hope crumbled into ash and blew away on the hot breeze. He swallowed, the fear making him feel even sicker now. He let himself go slack as the boot slid up his back, traveling along his spine until it reached his shoulders. The boot pressed down on Lafitte's neck and rocked back and forth against it. A trickle of possessive delight washed over him from above. He suppressed the rebellious cry within him that demanded he rise and fight. Fighting was the last thing he should try right now. The _surinni_ remained limp as the boot's heel dug into his skin.  
  
"You follow orders remarkably well considering what insolent stock you hail from. I suppose you're smart enough to stay where you're told to lie." The boot slid off of Lafitte's neck and rested on the ground next to his shoulder. "Now...you seem to reek of my newest servant's scent."  
  
Lafitte balled up the urge to retort and shoved it into his stomach, where it could churn with the rest of the turmoil there. Xelloss did not serve Dynast. He never would!  
  
"What would Xelloss be doing fraternizing with a _surinni_?" Dynast tsked. "First dragons, now astral rats. I'm going to have to teach him not to associate with riff-raff. It might damage his image, and wouldn't that be a shame? After all, that could reflect badly on his master. And he wouldn't want that."  
  
Lafitte bit his tongue, his mind reeling with disbelief. This King's mind was completely deluded!  
  
"He can be such a bad boy at times." Dynast licked his lips. "But I'm sure you know all about that." He hooked his fingers into the folds of Lafitte's cloak, lifting the _surinni_ to his height effortlessly. His gaze pierced into Lafitte's eyes, freezing his muscles and his mind. "Now, what in the thousand golden planes of Chaos are you doing here, with my most prized servant gone, his scaly whore nowhere in sight, and her house utterly destroyed?" Dynast raised an eyebrow while concern washed over his features. "Did you burn it down yourself, or did someone have to show you how to make fire first?"  
  
Anger surged through Lafitte so quickly and strongly that he couldn't possibly dam the flow. "You'll never find them! You'll never touch Firia, and you'll never have Xelloss in your clutches again!"  
  
Dynast's face transformed into a mask of fury. The Supreme King shook Lafitte, his fingers clutching the _surinni's_ brown cloak in a grip of steel. Lafitte felt the world lurch around him, his head snapping back and forth, his vision swimming until all he could see was a soup of molten vertigo. He grabbed Dynast's arm's, grasping in terror for any stability he could find. He didn't understand this plane, didn't understand how everything could hurt so much here. Why was he so weak here? A spinning fusion of nightmare and reality gripped Lafitte's head until the shaking stopped and his vision slowly cleared. He came to with his cheek resting against Dynast's chest, his body slumped against the Lord. Lafitte began to jerk away but halted as the King's hand encircled his neck.   
  
Dynast chuckled, a grin as cold as a shark's lurking on his face as his eyes raked over the body of his newly captured prey. He hadn't enjoyed a meal that much since Xelloss started behaving. "Why are _surinni_ so fragile?"  
  
Lafitte couldn't drag a reply up without passing out again.  
  
"I like to think it makes them more fun to play with and easier to tame." Dynast stroked the underside of Lafitte's chin with his thumb. "Perhaps we'll find out before Xelloss comes back for you."  
  
The two mazoku vanished from sight, leaving the ashes of the house to smolder alone.   
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Xelloss hunched over in his chair so far that his cheek pressed against his knee. A tremor shook through him, almost knocking him to the floor with its brutality. He tried to catch his breath, to swallow, to take any meaningless action that might comfort his body. But everything hurt too much. He was too cold to do anything but listen to Dynast whisper empty condolences in his ear.  
  
"It's allright. I'm here for you." Dynast knelt beside Xelloss, his cheek buried in the priest's violet hair. He had been there since the fit began, caressing him with warm hands and murmuring in his ear. He wrapped an arm around Xelloss' shoulders as another shiver rippled through his body. "It'll be over very soon. Don't be afraid."  
  
Xelloss couldn't even bother mentally cursing Dynast. All that occupied his mind were the frozen shockwaves that penetrated him to the bone. It had been over an hour since the attack began, an entire hour of cold seizures. He couldn't even remember what it felt like to be warm anymore. Another shiver locked him in its thrall as his body fought in vain for heat. Each spasm was longer and more violent than the last. They had started to grow painful as the chill overtook every part of Xelloss. Now that the cold had him completely arrested, the shudders were movements of agony. He felt Dynast wrap his arms around his body, giving him a shoulder to lean against. Xelloss slumped against his King as the shiver passed, leaving his body in drained peace.  
  
Dynast patted Xelloss. "See? It won't be much longer. We can get through this." As the last words spilled from Dynast's lips, Xelloss squeezed his eyes shut and gasped. It hurt! Oh gods it hurt!  
  
Dynast rubbed his back, giving him friction and heat. He was still confident that his calm guidance would help get Xelloss over this hurdle. But as the priest choked on a cry of pain, Dynast began to fear that nothing he was doing had helped.  
  
"Xelloss? Are you okay?" Concern resonated through Dynast's voice as Xelloss let out a half-whimper. Cold was eating through his head, through his brain, through his eyes. It chilled his lips and froze his tongue before the world dissolved into a burning haze of frost.  
  
"Xelloss?"  
  
"..._Xelloss?_"  
  
* * *  
  
Dynast tossed a furtive glance at the body in his bed, a bead of sweat crossing his brow. He'd wrapped Xelloss in heavy blankets from head to toe. He'd lit magical fires along the walls until the room was almost a furnace. Nothing helped. Had he let things go on too long? Was the knife finally eating away at the remains of his servant's will? It was scaring the hell out of him.   
  
He had to take it out. It was killing his beloved priest. Why did he need it now? Xelloss had finally admitted his true feelings. He didn't have to be led on his knees by a leash of ice anymore. Everything Dynast had ever wanted was happening. Not only was Xelloss his by right, but the priest had given himself up freely to Dynast. He had won the game, and his prize loved him for it.  
  
Dynast didn't need a glittering piece of cutlery to help him now. He could go without it.  
  
As Dynast walked toward the bed, something pulled at him and held him back. He hadn't wanted to use the knife in the first place, right? Then why should he hesitate? Life would be much better without his servant choking on frozen coughs. The action of removing it would be as simple as the task of planting it, and just as quick. Just pull it out...  
  
The thought of ripping flesh and cracking ice froze Dynast's heart. Xelloss was sick. He hadn't eaten a real meal in months. His pale skin and thin physique were hints of an emaciated astral body. Could his soul stand up to such treatment? Edge's grip was strong and he didn't easily give up his treasures. And now that the mazoku was on the job, Dynast couldn't communicate with his prize hunter. Dynast would have to go _surinnar_ to properly execute the task.   
  
His face twisted with bitter contempt. _Incarnt_ of his status were better than that.  
  
...But he would do it for Xelloss, wouldn't he?  
  
First, though, his servant desparately needed food. Dynast didn't let himself dodge the stab of guilt that came with the realization that he had let Xelloss go without eating for months. That was terrible of him, even if the priest had been misbehaving at the time. It was his job to take care of his beloved Xelloss, to teach and discipline him when he was ignorant and to comfort and console him when he was hurt. After all, Zelas had certainly done a poor job of that.  
  
But alas, Zelas was dead now...  
  
Dynast's eye caught the subtle shift in the bedspread's topography as Xelloss woke up. The King scrambled to the priest's side, panic and hope battling inside his skull. He sat beside Xelloss, reaching under the layers of blankets to feel his pale skin. It was cold, yes, but not frozen. As Xelloss rubbed his cheek against his master's hand, Dynast realized that 'frozen' had been accurate until quite recently. Tears brushed against his palm, icy diamond chips so sharp that the King pulled back the covers to make sure that Xelloss hadn't been cut.   
  
The priest's skin was pure unblemished white, his lips fading to a frosty blue. Dynast sighed with relief and cupped Xelloss' face in his hands, kissing his servant with precious warmth. Everything was going to be okay. Xelloss was perfectly fine.  
  
The weary servant barely opened his eyes, slowly gaining awareness of his surroundings and position. Dynast strayed from Xelloss' mouth as he nuzzled the priest's cheek. "Xelloss?" Dynast's voice was as soft and warm as his lips. "How do you feel?"  
  
Xelloss' mind spun as thoughts rushed around his head in a frenzied race. It was so much harder to be composed now. He had no energy left to hold up his mask. But then, Dynast was expecting him to be tired and confused. So anything he said would be appropriate.  
  
'I feel like you're a sick, crazy bastard.'  
  
_No, that probably wouldn't be tactful _. "I...ngh." Well, that was a relief. He didn't have the energy to speak at all, much less put his foot in his mouth. He forced himself not to flinch as Dynast drew him closer, held him against his chest, and stroked his cheek. Xelloss' mind boggled at how long he'd kept up his ruse of affection. Now that he looked back on it, it seemed like he'd been Dynast's perfect doll forever. The disgust roiled in him, burning his chest and squeezing his throat. It was a stroke of divine grace that he was so weak he couldn't retch.  
  
"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I'm here for you." Dynast's fingers stroked Xelloss' lips, as if to assure them that they could stay at rest forever. "You're my prize servant, Xelloss. You deserve a reward. You worked so hard to please me, even when you were so tragically injured. You've earned your place in my ranks."  
  
Xelloss didn't dare to even breathe as Dynast's words settled into him. _What?_  
  
"Today you will swear an oath of loyalty and be completely in my service. I'll remove that knife from your flesh and restore you to your full health. I'll give you my own blessings and your own powers. You will stand at my side as we finally carry through my plans. I can't move without you, Xelloss. I don't want to."  
  
It took every ounce of strength Xelloss had left in his body to keep himself from hyperventilating. No. Dynast was not going to have him swear loyalty. No. Dynast would not have Xelloss as his completely obedient, eternally bound servant. No. Dynast would not own him completely! No! There was nothing that Xelloss could do! _No!_  
  
'Refuse him! Drop the subservient act! His illusions of affection would be shattered in an instant!' But no, then everything would be wasted and Dynast would let Xelloss freeze to death in the knife's thrall. Then he wouldn't have to worry about Xelloss' will. It wouldn't exist.  
  
Xelloss couldn't refuse. He couldn't just pretend to be Dynast's perfect servant anymore. He would have no choice but to be a slave under Dynast's will. No matter if he was sincere or not. He was finally trapped.  
  
'SHIT!'  
  
Dynast crooked his fingers under Xelloss' chin and lifted his servant's face, smiling. "But first...I want to reward your hard work." He sank down, stroking his lips over Xelloss' mouth and tracing spirals against the priest's neck. Xelloss let himself give in to the caresses, swallowing the bitter regret that blossomed in him. His final act before he was forced into the last thing he ever wanted to do would be this. And he hated this almost more than serving Dynast.  
  
The greatest shock to Xelloss came when Dynast pulled away from him. "You deserve a feast after your famine. I'm going to bring it to you, Xelloss." He licked the priest's cheek. "Aren't you hungry?"  
  
Confusion trickled over Xelloss' mind, followed by intense relief. "I'm starving." It was true. His perfect servant act had been so demanding that he never realized he was so hungry that it almost hurt. Dynast's hands stroked Xelloss' arms, the touch not seductive but soothing. Xelloss finally allowed himself to accept one of Dynast's gestures, for some reason actually finding real comfort in it.  
  
'I just...feel better. Maybe I'm just that hungry.'  
  
"You need something fresh for your neglected palate. A generous portion for an empty stomach." A crazy smile alit on Dynast's face. "I can catch you a golden dragon and we could share it!"  
  
For one very brief, very long moment, Xelloss' life was a nightmare.  
  
Dynast felt Xelloss tense up, saw the pure panic on the priest's face. "Oh no, my precious. I would never harm your gilded pet. I know how attached you are to her." The King's hand massaged Xelloss' neck, calming him. He sighed. "I'm sorry. I completely forgot about that unfortunate affection of yours. But don't worry..." he kissed Xelloss on the cheek, "I'll make sure to fetch you a gold that looks nothing like your girlfriend." Dynast rose, leaning Xelloss down into the covers carefully, pulling the blankets to his chin. He stole one last kiss as he tucked his servant in, then whispered, "Get some sleep, my beauty. I'll be away for a long time. I must pick our supper carefully." He stepped away and vanished.  
  
Xelloss blinked. 'Now.'  
  
He yanked the covers down, flinching at the chill that came over him as the air of the room, though actually very warm, bit at his skin like ice. He reluctantly dragged his legs out of their warm cave of blankets. A shiver hit him as the last of the sheets came away. It was nothing like the frigid attack that had ravaged him earlier, but it still hurt. He wondered for a moment if he could bear this kind of exposure.  
  
'It doesn't matter. I'm getting out.'  
  
Xelloss uncurled his fingers, revealing the bishop. He had held it in his palm all through the attack and Dynast's ministrations.  
  
'I'm glad you're with me, Bishop. Time for you and I to get to work.'   
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As you can see, I've reorganized. This and all the previous chapters now make up Mazopolitik I. Mazopolitik II will change gears a bit, with longer chapters [about three times as long] and a heightened rating. It already has one chapter written and is, or will be very shortly, in the R-rated section. I've adjusted the rating because the sexual themes in the first part have gotten more prevailent. I blame it all on Dynast, and so should you. You should go visit the R section anyways because I have another fic in it, and so does Ryo Hoshi, and so do other people. It's a sadly neglected realm. Go make it less lonely.  
  
I'm approaching finals now, and am taking five classes at once this quarter. This means that writing is a little tougher to do, since I have much less time in which to do it. After that comes graduation and summer vacation. New chapters of my stuff may be sparse. I promise I AM writing, it's just that with longer chapters and a busier schedule, updates may come less frequently. But worry not. I'm just as eager to see the end of my stories as you are.  
  
* * *  
  
The floor welcomed Xelloss with a hard smack as he pulled himself over the side of the bed. Any immediate movement by the priest had to be postponed for a moment - the knife in his back had been jolted by the fall, and it registered its protest with a wave of frozen agony. After a minute the blade ceased torturing its prisoner, allowing the priest to drag himself slowly away from the bed.  
  
It was now that Xelloss became very glad that Dynast didn't carpet his chambers, preferring the gleam of polished stone floors. That made progress so much easier as he slid away from the bed with only his arms to pull his body. _I wish I could move my legs. Hell, I wish I could feel them. When was the last time that I stood up on my own?_  
  
He stopped when he was six feet from the bed. That was far enough for what he was planning. He perched Bishop upside-down between his fingers, scratching the sharp quartz corners of the monk's hood against the weaker marble floor. _What was it that Zelas said once? "I'll be more damned than usual, Xelloss. Every so often, one of your neurotic habits really does come in handy."_ The priest drew a wide arc into the floor, shifting his body so that he could further the curve's existence. _I miss you so much, Zelas._  
  
A curve became a circle, and a circle became a spiral. Xelloss set himself to filling in the spiral with tiny angles and jagged corners. His hand trembled as he marked lines [_they must be straight, **they must be straight**_] into the smooth white rock. His arms felt too weak, his fingers shaking as he forced precision into them. Dynast's care had taken its toll on his physical and astral bodies. Mazoku didn't need to keep their muscles toned with excercise. However, if their astral health was bad, then it showed through the physical shell. Xelloss' spiritual hunger had unavoidable subconscious effects. His _incarnar_ body conformed to the mental pressures, losing more 'weight' as the hunger persisted. While the body had no real 'muscles', its strength depended on Xelloss' energy levels and ability to focus. Xelloss was sorely lacking in both areas.  
  
A sudden spasm of cold hit the priest in the middle of scrawling a complex design. It was all he could do to freeze his fingers in their position as his shoulders shook hard with the onslaught. The spasm left as quickly as it had arrived, leaving Xelloss tense in its wake. He was lucky he had managed to halt his progress without destroying it with an errant mark. The priest continued in his scribal role, wary of more attacks to come.  
  
The going was slow. Xelloss didn't allow himself to panic and quicken his pace. Speed in this task would bring with it carelessness, and any mistake at this stage might not just ruin his progress but ruin his chances at surviving this ordeal. Slowly the marks connected and weaved across the floor, converging in fractals of geometry that danced through sweeping contours. Xelloss didn't register the passing of time, not concerned with the end product. He was wrapped up in the process, tangled in pursuit of the lines that twisted through his fingers...  
  
Cold snapped through Xelloss' back so hard that it knocked him down. His thoughts blurred for a moment, unable to dispense logic to his limbs. For ten minutes he lay there, beyond movement and beyond thinking. As the attack finally died away, Xelloss found the energy to look up.  
  
"...No."  
  
It hit him so hard that it brought tears to his eyes.  
  
The bishop was ten feet away from him. It had rolled there when it fell from his fingers as the knife's attack had caught him unawares.  
  
_Gods. Gods I'm going to die. I'm going to..._ Xelloss squeezed his eyes shut, visions assailing his mind. He could see Dynast towering over him, surveying his crippled body and the etching under it. He could see the blind rage, the Lord assaulting him until he finally ran out of ways to make him hurt. He could see himself limp and frozen in Dynast's bed as the knife killed the last bit of warmth left inside. And finally, himself, standing beside Dynast, eyes cold and lifeless, expression as mindlessly docile as Bishop's...  
  
...watching as Dynast wrung pleas for mercy out of Firia's last breath...  
  
_I just want to die. Is that too much?_ Xelloss opened his eyes, unable to bear the private visions anymore. He tried to concentrate on the feel of smooth marble under his body, on the peculiar indentations lying against his skin. He could lose himself in that, just lose himself in the cold...just sleep and wait for his master to collect his property...  
  
Xelloss shook off the hold of the knife, its touch becoming more subtle now that it could feel him lose hope. He raised his head, surveying his reflection in the polished marble. _I look like hell...WHAT?_  
  
The lines on top of his reflection connected in a pattern so complex that he couldn't believe he had drawn it. Intricate. Solid. **Whole**. "I...I was finished!" Xelloss' eyes flew to Bishop, the chesspiece lying on its side, turned to face him. "Bishop, we finished!"  
  
Bishop smiled, congratulating Xelloss.  
  
"Thank you," Xelloss whispered before uttering three syllables that vibrated in the air. The teleportation sigil beneath him glowed with power. With a flash of light, he dissappeared, leaving behind nothing but unblemished marble...  
  
...and a lone, smiling chesspiece.  
  
* * *  
  
After Lafitte left, Firia tried to turn her attention to Xelloss. She was so, so worried about his condition. It had been months since she'd seen him. She had missed him terribly, and now to finally have him with her, but in this state...  
  
But Firia could not focus on Xelloss. Lafitte's departure was affecting her in a way that neither she nor even he had probably expected. She couldn't fixate her astral vision on Xelloss, couldn't concentrate on his limp form in her arms. In fact, she couldn't focus at all. It was like she wasn't even here.  
  
In a way, though, she wasn't. She was with Lafitte, climbing vapor rungs between worlds on a shadow ladder. And she was in her bed, sprawled in a trance next to Xelloss' corporeal body. And she was here as well, waiting for a delivery to take place.  
  
She sat there, as motionless as her _incarnar_ body, unable to react as her mind saw the stove shatter, unable to help Lafitte drag bodies from the house, unable to stop the fire from ravaging her cherished home. She watched the _surinni_ push Xelloss off of the precipice of physical reality and into her waiting arms. Part of her noted that Xelloss' _surinnar_ body felt heavier after that moment, and maybe even warmer. But another part watched on as Lafitte plucked the rope/cord/strand of her will, drawn tight like a bowstring. As it twanged, her soul resonated up and down between the worlds and through her heart. A discordant note broke through her ears as Firia was pulled up through the sky and into the ethereal realms. The last thing she felt in the _incarnar_ world was the brush of ice as a cold and powerful presence entered Lafitte's life.  
  
But that was not here, and Firia was no longer there.  
  
Firia shook with the realization of what she had passed en route to _surinnar_. Dynast. Dynast was coming! No. For Lafitte, he was already there. Firia clutched Xelloss closer, tears falling from her eyes. She was still shaking so hard, as if she were colder than anything else in the world...  
  
"W-wait until I'm settled in. Wait until I'm settled in. Wait...wait...." Firia tried to breathe and realized that she was in fact breathing. She was breathing on this plane. She was doing the impossible. She wasn't shaking anymore.  
  
She could stand - she already was standing. She could leave Xelloss' temple - she was walking, the steps blending into each other like raindrops in a waterspout. And now, she was looking into the sky for a star that shined gold-  
  
And there it was.  
  
Firia almost wondered why she had never seen it there before. In the blink of an eye, she willed herself into it.  
  
* * *  
  
Gold mist filled Firia's eyes and then burned away in a shower of golden light. The sight was more beautiful than anything she had ever seen. She couldn't focus on it, though. Everything was blurring together in her eyes. She was stumbling, unable to hold herself and Xelloss upright any longer. Her hands, which she never had attended to after searing one and freezing the other, were burning with every movement she made. Firia willed herself not to drop Xelloss as her vision faded slowly into darkness. Finally, her legs just gave out.  
  
Someone was catching her.  
  
Firia couldn't even find the energy to open her eyes as the mysterious samaritan asked her who she was. She hardly had the energy to mumble answers at all. Why were her arms and legs so heavy now? Why was it so hard to concentrate? The questions came from all around now, a multitude of voices demanding to know how she found this place and who or what was she and what was she doing with their friend Xelloss. When one of them tried to pull Xelloss away her arms suddenly found new strength and words leapt to her mouth.  
  
"Don't take him away! I just now got to hold him!" Lafitte's face flashed across Firia's mind. "Rahanalili sent me!"  
  
Every voice was silent now.  
  
"How did you know that name?" whispered a voice over her shoulder.  
  
"I..." Darkness spread from Firia's eyes and into her mind. She couldn't feel her saviour anymore. She couldn't feel Xelloss anymore. "Lafitte...run! He's going to catch you, Lafitte! Why can't you get up!? Why can't...we run?"  
  
"She passed out! What are we suppossed to do with her?"  
  
"What do we do with any of Rahanalili's gifts? We take care of them. Bring her in."  
  
"What about Xelloss?"  
  
"I fancy that Rahanalili would be a bit upset if we left him on the doormat after all this time."  
  
"..."  
  
"That's a priceless expression if I ever saw a face. Now help me carry these two. Something tells me neither are going to rest easy if I pull one away from the other."  
  
"Well, okay. But I think Lafitte may have some explaining to do."  
  
"The day Lafitte doesn't have something to answer for is the day he crosses over. Damn. This chick is heavy! You'd think she was a dragon or something."   



	14. Notes

This is something I posted on Mazo's website that some of you ff.netters may have missed. Also, this is a chance for me to remind you that Mazopolitik is being continued in a sequel called Mazopolitik 2, which is in the R-rated section. Since ff.net doesn't automatically show R-rated fics, you might not be aware of this. Anyways, thanks for reading! - Irk  
  
**Liner Notes**  
  
This section is for explaining some things about Mazopolitik that were part of the creation process and can't really fit into the story at large. So now you get to know what I was thinking when I created this whole mess. [You poor, poor people. XD]  
  
Mazopolitik started off as a rogue plot idea that went like this:  
  
XELLOSS: ::shows up at FIRIA's with a knife in his back, freezing and hurt::  
FIRIA: "The hell?"  
XELLOSS: "Dynast has held me captive and we played chess and he killed Zelas and he will do bad things so let's go get Lina because she can kill him before he does bad things because Lina kills Mazoku Lords that's what she does!"  
FIRIA: "...What?"  
XELLOSS: "Dynast has held me captive and we played chess and he killed Zelas and he will do bad things so let's go get Lina because she can kill him before he does bad things because Lina kills Mazoku Lords that's what she does!"  
FIRIA: "Well.....................................okay."  
::they go find Lina, who is bored::  
LINA: "Killing a Mazoku Lord? Can't be hard, I've done it like, twice! Let's go before I explode from boredom!"  
::they go to DYNAST's place::  
DYNAST: *KABOOM*  
ALL: "YAY!"  
  
The working title was "Let's Go Kill Dynast!" The fic was suppossed to be three chapters long.  
  
...Then I started writing it.  
  
I blame everything on Dynast. He became way too fun to write, and I couldn't stop imagining more encounters between him and Xel. Eventually he refused to work unless I gave him sex, and then things just went downhill from there until Mazopolitik became R-rated by part two. I really can't complain, though - Dynast has become very endearing to me in his madness and self-delusion. I enjoy writing his thought process a lot, just because it's so fun. Dynast thinks in a completely backwards way that makes SO MUCH SENSE when you're Dynast.  
  
Dynast's personality and design came from one concept: violate fanon. A lot. So many Dynasts in fanfiction are cold, aloof, emotionless ice-gods that it was about to make me choke and die. In general I really don't enjoy ice-god characters anyways, and the fact that so many fans wrote him the same way over and over and over just drove me mad. I don't really like the concept of fanon at all and try to break its rules as much as possible. I think people need to be more creative and really _think_ when they write a character. Anyways, there's also the general stereotype of characters with ice or coldness as their elements always being cold and emotionless because that supposedly embodied their element. My problem with this in Slayers fanfiction specifically is that the series is so often blowing stereotypes out of the water or spoofing them. I mean, Hades is basically a little kid in this universe. The dumb blonde swordsman may be brainless but he's not exactly macho so much as just REALLY blonde. Our sorceress heroine blows up towns as much as she blows up bandits. If the Ice Lord is icy and cold and aloof, then some sort of parody element needs to be there or the whole thing gets really damn tired. So I went a different way altogether - I made Dynast extremely emotional. He likes the cold, yes, and he has a fixation with the color blue, but by no means is he heartless. He's just extremely twisted and screwed up and selfish. He lives in a little world where everything is justifiably his, and when this world conflicts with the real world, he cracks. I like Dynast. It's fun to make him go boom.  
  
Whew, THAT was a rant. I think I had a chip on my shoulder! n_n;;;  
  
Anyways, Xelloss and Firia. I swear I'll explain how they ended up a couple someday - I'm planning a side-story for it. My first priority right now, though, is plot. I'm kinda ashamed that I haven't really had a chance to show their relationship much yet, actually. Well, it's coming soon. Really, Xel doesn't have much of a part until he wakes up, and he's kind of my main character! XD Ah well. I swear I will pay them more attention, but the rest of Mazo has kind of exploded and sucked me in. Hell, the surinni alone...  
  
The surinni were such an accident. I had no plans for them until I introduced Lafitte. Then, suddenly, I had the idea to make him part of a completely different race of mazoku. And then the idea just took off. You have no idea how much backstory and details I have planned for the surinni. It's amazing. And kind of scary. And it's all Lafitte's fault. n_n; Anyways, the surinni really excited me because I'd never seen anyone actually make mazoku sub-races. I mean, there's four clans of Gold Dragons alone, never mind all the other types of dragons. Why not have different types of mazoku? The surinni are FUN, and I have a lot more of them in store for Mazopolitik.  
  
And then we have Lafitte. Lafitte is actually named after the pirate of same name. Historically, the real Lafitte hung around in New Orleans with a whole bunch of other pirates. He and the rest of the pirates were instrumental in the Battle of New Orleans during [well, three weeks after] the Revolutionary War. I kind of have a penchant for pirates because I think they're really damn cool. n_n; Also, living near New Orleans, I can actually visit real pirate haunts! Hell, Lafitte's Blacksmith Shop still stands even now, over 200 years after the real Lafitte stomped around in it. My point? All of the surinni are named after pirates or ship captains. Just...because.  
  
Lafitte himself came out as a real hazy concept and then kinda fleshed himself out as things progressed. You'll notice his speech patterns and mannerisms made a drastic shift in the story. There IS a reason for this, and it WILL be explained in the story. I'm just clarifying that ahead of time. Heck, a lot of hazy stuff in Mazo will be explained later down the line, so if you see something that seems wrong or just strange, give it time. I swear I'll explain later. Anyways, Lafitte. I like Lafitte. I think he's actually one of the most normal characters in the fic by the time you get to Mazo 2. He seems to be good at having trouble happen to him. nn;  
  
Murf, Edge. I'm kinda sorry I killed him off. He was a big bastard, yes, but such a fun, evil bastard. More will be explained about him as well, there's just so much to get to now. Mazo has grown so much from its frenetic, silly beginnings. n_n; I had to change the format just to accommodate it all. The short chapters were really doing more harm than good - they made me rush, trying to explain things in a shorter space or make things happen faster. I can take my time with longer chapters and fit much more story in. Also, I can devote my time to more extraneous details and to character development. I really want to flesh out the surinni and Dynast and Bishop. Hell, Bishop has a backstory the likes of which you really won't believe until it all pans out. I love my little Bishop. I actually never planned to make him a living, moving person until a poster on deviantArt named Hokuto commented [on the chesspiece sketch] that he looked like a very interesting character. Then I followed my urges and made it so. What's funny is that he's going to be **very** important to Mazopolitik when it gets down to the final movements...  
  
...And as far as that goes, yes, I do know how Mazo will end. Yes, surprises are in store. Yes, you will probably want to beat me when the last chapter is still being written and it's just not fast enough. Yes, I enjoy torturing all of you. No, it will not be anything like "Let's Go Kill Dynast!" But I promise that it WILL end. While it may seem that I hardly ever update, I **do** write quite a lot. I enjoy it very much and I would never abandon my fanfics. That's just cruel. So don't ever think that I've given up and there will be no more Mazopolitik. I have to write, just to stay sane. n_n;; Besides, I want to read the ending just as much as you do.  
  
This section will probably grow a bit when certain chapters of Mazo come out. Keep posted! Exciting things are in store! And thanks for reading!  
  
- Irk, 05/16/03  
  



End file.
